UNIVERSITY  OF 
ILLINOIS  LI3RARY 

AI  URBANA- CHAMPAIGN 
STACKS 


THE  WORKS 

OF 

HENRIK  IBSEN 

LADY   INGER  OF  OSTRAT 

THE  FEAST  AT  SOLHOUG 

LOVE'S  COMEDY 

WITH  INTRODUCTIONS  BY 

WILLIAM     ARCHER 

AND  I 

C.  H.  HERFORD,    Litt.D.,M.A. 

THE  VIKINGS  AT  HELGELAND 
THE   PRETENDERS 

WITH  INTRODUCTIONS  BY 

WILLIAM    ARCHER 


*S  SCRIBNER'S 


JEFFERSON    PRESS 
BOSTON  NEW  YORK 


Copyright.  1911,  by  Charles  Scribner'a  Sons 


TVtE 

5  ^  v  \ 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

GENERAL  PREFACE VU 


INTRODUCTION  TO  "  LADY  INGER  OF  OSTRAt"   .   .      3 

«"LA1)Y  IXdKR  OF  OSTbAt" 19 

Translated  by  Charles  Archer 

-INTRODUCTION  TO  "THE   FEAST  AT  SOLHOUG  "      .       .        191 

g 
AUTIloii's  PREFACE  TO  "THE  FEAST  AT SOLHOUG "  .       196 

IS,"  THE  FEAST  AT  SOLHOUG  " 205 

Translated  by  William  Archer  and  Mary  Morrison 

0 

INTRODUCTION  TO  "  LOVE's  COMEDY  " 293 

rjf'  love's  comedy" 305 

y?  Translated  by  C.  II.  IIerfori> 

V» 

A 


LADY  INGER  OF   OSTRAt 


LADY  INGER  OF   OSTRAT 
INTRODUCTION* 

Henrik  Johan  Ibsen  was  born  on  March  20,  1828,  at 
the  little  seaport  of  Skien,  situated  at  the  head  of  a  long 
fiord  on  the  south  coast  of  Norway.  His  great-great- 
grandfather was  a  Dane  who  settled  in  Bergen  about 
1720.  His  great-grandmother,  Wenche  Dischington,  was 
the  daughter  of  a  Scotchman,  who  had  settled  and  be- 
come naturalised  in  Norway;  and  Ibsen  himself  was 
inclined  to  ascribe  some  of  his  characteristics  to  the 
Scottish  strain  in  his  blood.  Both  his  grandmother 
(Plesner  by  name)  and  his  mother,  Maria  Cornelia 
Altenburg,  were  of  German  descent.  It  has  been  said 
that  there  was  not  a  drop  of  Norwegian  blood  in  Ibsen's 
composition;  but  it  is  doubtful  whether  this  statement 
can  be  substantiated.  Most  of  his  male  ancestors  were 
sailors;  but  his  father,  Knud  Ibsen,  was  a  merchant. 
When  Henrik  (his  first  child)  was  born,  he  seems  to 
have  been  prosperous,  and  to  have  led  a  very  social  and 
perhaps  rather  extravagant  life.  But  when  the  poet  was 
eight  years  old,  financial  disaster  overtook  the  family, 
and  they  had  to  withdraw  to  a  comparatively  small  farm- 
house on  the  outskirts  of  the  little  town,  where  they  lived 
in  poverty  and  retirement. 

As  a  boy,  Ibsen  appears  to  have  been  lacking  in  ani- 
mal spirits  and  the  ordinary  childish  taste  for  games. 

*  Copyright,  1908,  by  Charles  Scribner's  Sons. 
3 


4  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT 

Our  chief  glimpses  of  his  home  life  are  due  to  his  sister 
Hedvig,  the  only  one  of  his  family  with  whom,  in  after 
years,  he  maintained  any  intercourse,  and  whose  name 
he  gave  to  one  of  his  most  beautiful  creations.1  She  re- 
lates that  the  only  outdoor  amusement  he  cared  for  was 
"building" — in  what  material  does  not  appear.  Among 
indoor  diversions,  that  to  which  he  was  most  addicted 
was  conjuring,  a  younger  brother  serving  as  his  confed- 
erate. We  also  hear  of  his  cutting  out  fantastically- 
dressed  figures  in  paste-board,  attaching  them  to  wooden 
blocks,  and  ranging  them  in  groups  or  tableaux.  He 
may  be  said,  in  short,  to  have  had  a  toy  theatre  without 
the  stage.  In  all  these  amusements,  it  is  possible,  with 
a  little  goodwill,  to  divine  the  coming  dramatist — the 
constructive  faculty,  the  taste  for  technical  legerdemain 
(which  made  him  in  his  youth  so  apt  a  disciple  of  Scribe), 
and  the  fundamental  passion  for  manipulating  fictitious 
characters.  The  education  he  received  was  of  the  most 
ordinary,  but  included  a  little  Latin.  The  subjects 
which  chiefly  interested  him  were  history  and  religion. 
He  showed  no  special  literary  proclivities,  though  a 
dream  which  he  narrated  in  a  school  composition  so 
impressed  his  master  that  he  accused  him  (much .  to 
the  boy's  indignation)  of  having  copied  it  out  of  some 
book. 

•  His  chief  taste  was  for  drawing,  and  he  was  anxious 
to  become  an  artist,  but  his  father  could  not  afford  to 
pay  for  his  training.2     At  the  age  of  fifteen,  therefore, 

1  See  Introduction  to  The  Wild  Duck. 

1  He  continued  to  dabble  in  painting  until  he  was  thirty,  or 
thereabouts. 


INTRODUCTION  5 

he  had  to  set  about  earning  his  living,  and  was  ap- 
prenticed to  an  apothecary  in  Grimstad,  a  town  on  the 
south-west  coast  of  Norway,  between  Arendal  and  Chris- 
tianssand.  He  was  here  in  even  narrower  social  sur- 
roundings than  at  Skien.  His.  birthplace  numbered 
some  3,000  inhabitants,  Grimstad  about  800.  That  he 
was  contented  with  his  lot  cannot  be  supposed;  and  the 
short,  dark,  taciturn  youth  seems  to  have  made  an  un- 
sympathetic and  rather  uncanny  impression  upon  the 
burghers  of  the  little  township.  His  popularity  was  not 
heightened  by  a  talent  which  he  presently  developed  for 
drawing  caricatures  and  writing  personal  lampoons. 
He  found,  however,  two  admiring  friends  in  Christopher 
Lorentz  Due,  a  custom-house  clerk,  and  a  law  student 
named  Ole  Schulerud. 

The  first  political  event  which  aroused  his  interest 
and  stirred  him  to  literary  expression  was  the  French 
Revolution  of  1848.  He  himself  writes:1  "The  times 
were  much  disturbed.  The  February  revolution,  the 
rising  in  Hungary  and  elsewhere,  the  Slesvig  War — all 
this  had  a  strong  and  ripening  effect  on  my  develop- 
ment, immature  though  it  remained  both  then  and  long 
afterwards.  I  wrote  clangorous  poems  of  encourage- 
ment to  the  Magyars,  adjuring  them,  for  the  sake  of 
freedom  and  humanity,  not  to  falter  in  their  righteous 
war  against  'the  tyrants';  and  I  composed  a  long  series 
of  sonnets  to  King  Oscar,  mainly,  so  far  as  I  remem- 
ber, urging  him  to  set  aside  all  petty  considerations, 
and  march  without  delay,  at  the  head  of  his  army,  to 
the  assistance  of  our  Danish  brothers  on  the  Slesvig 
1  Preface  to  the  second  edition  of  Catilina.  1875. 


6  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT 

frontier."  The  series  of  sonnets,  and  one  of  the  poems 
"To  Hungary!"  have  been  published  in  the  poet's  Lit- 
erary Remains.  About  the  same  time  he  was  reading 
for  his  matriculation  examination  at  Christiania  Uni- 
versity, where  he  proposed  to  study  medicine;  and  it 
happened  that  the  Latin  books  prescribed  were  Sallust's 
Catiline  and  Cicero's  Catilinarian  Orations.  "I  de- 
voured these  documents,"  says  Ibsen,  "and  a  few  months 
later  my  drama  [Catilina]  was  finished."  His  friend 
Schulerud  took  it  to  Christiania,  to  offer  it  to  the  theatre 
and  to  the  publishers.  By  both  it  was  declined.  Schule- 
rud, however,  had  it  printed  at  his  own  expense;  and  soon 
after  its  appearance,  in  the  early  spring  of  1850,  Ibsen 
himself  came  to  Christiania.1 

For  the  most  part  written  in  blank  verse,  Catilina 
towards  the  close  breaks  into  rhyming  trochaic  lines  of 
thirteen  and  fifteen  syllables.  It  is  an  extremely  youth- 
ful production,  very  interesting  from  the  biographical 
point  of  view,  but  of  small  substantive  merit.  What  is 
chiefly  notable  in  it,  perhaps,  is  the  fact  that  it  already 
shows  Ibsen  occupied  with  the  theme  which  was  to 
run  through  so  many  of  his  works— ^the  contrast  be- 
tween two  types  of  womanhood,  one  strong  and  reso- 
lute, even  to  criminality,  the  other  comparatively  weak, 
clinging,  and  "feminine"  in  the  conventional  sense  of 
the  word."} 

In  Christiania  Ibsen  shared  Schulerud's  lodgings,  and 
his  poverty.     There  is  a  significant  sentence  in  his  pref- 

1  This  is  his  own  statement  of  the  order  of  events  According 
to  Halvdan  Koht  (Samlede  Virrker,  vol.  x,  p.  i)  he  arrived  in  Chris- 
tiania in  March,  1850,  and  Catilina  did  not  appear  until  April. 


INTRODUCTION  7 

ace  to  the  re-written  Catiliiia,  in  which  he  tells  how  the 
bulk  of  the  first  edition  was  sold  as  waste  paper,  and 
adds:  "In  the  days  immediately  following  we  lacked  none 
of  the  first  necessities  of  life."  He  went  to  a  "student 
factory,"  or,  as  we  should  say,  a  "crammer's,"  managed 
by  one  Heltberg;  and  there  he  fell  in  with  several  of  the 
leading  spirits  of  his  generation — notably  with  Bjornson, 
A.  O.  Vinje,  and  Jonas  Lie.  In  the  early  summer  of 
1850  he  wrote  a  one-act  play,  Kiwmpehoien  (The  War- 
jrior's  Barrow),  entirely  in  the  sentimental  and  somewhat 
verbose  manner  of  the  Danish  poet  Oehlenschlager.  It 
was  accepted  by  the  Christiania  Theatre,  and  performed 
three  times,  but  cannot  have  put  much  money  in  the 
poet's  purse.  With  Paul  Bottcn-Hansen  and  A.  O.  Vinje 
he  co-operated  in  thp  production  of  a  weekly  satirical 
paper,  at  first  entitled  Manden  (The  Man),  but  after- 
wards Andhrimner,  after  the  cook  of  the  gods  in  Val- 
halla. To  this  journal,  which  lasted  only  from  January 
to  September,  1851,  he  contributed,  among  other  things, 
a  satirical  "music-tragedy,"  entitled  Norma,  or  a  Politi- 
cian's Love.1  As  the  circulation  of  the  paper  is  said  to 
have  been  something  under  a  hundred,  it  cannot  have 
paid  its  contributors  very  lavishly.  About  this  time,  too, 
he  narrowly  escaped  arrest  on  account  of  some  politi- 
cal agitation,  in  which,  however,  he  had  not  been  very 
deeply  concerned. 

Meanwhile  a  movement  had  been  going  forward  in 
the  capital  of  Western  Norway,  Bergen,  which  was  to 
have  a  determining  influence  on  Ibsen's  destinies. 

1  The  whole  three  acts  are  comprised  in  eight  pages  of  the  Literary 
Remains  (vol.  i). 


8  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT 

Up  to  1850  there  had  been  practically  no  Norwegian 
drama.     The  two  great  poets  of  the  first  half  of  the  cen- 
tury, Wergeland  and  Welhaven,  had  nothing  dramatic 
in  their  composition,  though  Wergeland  more  than  once 
essayed  the  dramatic  form.     Danish  actors  and  Danish 
plays  held  entire  possession  of  the  Christiania  Theatre; 
and,  though  amateur  performances  were  not  uncommon 
in  provincial  towns,  it  was  generally  held  that  the  Nor- 
wegians, as  a  nation,  were  devoid  of  all  talent  for  acting. 
The  very  sound  of  Norwegian  (as  distinct  from  Danish) 
was  held  by  Norwegians  themselves  to  be  ridiculous  on 
the  stage.     Fortunately  Ole  Bull,  the  great  violinist,  was 
not  of  that  opinion.     With  the  insight  of  genius,  he  saw 
that  the  time  had  come  for  the  development  of  a  national 
drama;  he  set  forth  this  view  in  a  masterly  argument 
addressed  to  the  Storthing;  and  he  gave  practical  effect 
to  it  by  establishing,  at  his  own  risk,  a  Norwegian  the- 
atre in  Bergen.     How  rightly  he  had  judged  the  situa- 
tion may  be  estimated  from  the  fact  that  among  the  raw 
lads  who  first  presented  themselves  for  employment  was 
Johannes  Brun,  afterwards  one  of  the  greatest  of  come- 
dians; while  the  first  "  theatre-poet "  engaged  by  the  man- 
agement was  none  other  than  Henrik  Ibsen. 

The  theatre  was  opened  on  January  2,  1850;  Ibsen 
entered  upon  his  duties  (at  a  salary  of  less  than  £70  a 
year)  in  November,  1851. * 

Incredibly,  pathetically  small,  according  to  our  ideas, 
were  the  material  resources  of  Bull's  gallant  enterprise. 

1  The  history  of  Ibsen's  connection  with  the  Bergen  Theatre  is 
written  at  some  length  in  an  article  by  me,  entitled  "  Ibsen's  Ap- 
prenticeship," published  in  the  Fortnightly  Review  for  January, 
1904      From  that  article  I  quote  freely  in  the  following  pages. 


INTRODUCTION  9 

The  town  of  Bergen  numbered  only  25,000  inhabitants. 
Performances  were  given  only  twice,  or,  at  the  outside, 
three  times,  a  week;  and  the  highest  price  of  admission 
was  two  shillings.  What  can  have  been  attempted  in 
the  way  of  scenery  or  costumes  it  is  hard  to  imagine.  Of 
a  three-act  play,  produced  in  1852,  we  read  that  "the 
mounting,  which  cost  £22  10s.,  left  nothing  to  be  de- 
sired." 

Ibsen's   connection   with   the   Bergen   Theatre   lasted 
from  November  6.   1851.  until  the  summer  of  1857— 
that  is  to  say,  from  his  twenty-fourth  to  his  thirtieth  year. 
He  was  engaged  in  the  first  instance  "to  assist  the  the- 
atre as  dramatic  author,"  but  in  the  following  year  he 
received  from  the  management  a  "travelling  stipend"  of 
£  \5  to  enable  him  to  study  the  art  of  theatrical  produc- 
tion in  Denmark  and  Germany,  with  the  stipulation  that, 
on  his  return,  he  should  undertake  the  duties  of  "scene 
instructor"— that  is  to  say,  stage-manager  or  producer. 
In  this  function  he  seems  to  have  been— as,  indeed,  he 
always  was— extremely  conscientious.     A  book  exists  in 
the  Bergen  Public  Library  containing  (it  is  said)  careful 
designs  by  him  for  every  scene  in  the  plays  he  produced, 
and  full  notes  as  to  entrances,  exits,  groupings,  costumes, 
accessories,   etc.     But   he  was  not  an  animating  or  in- 
spiring producer.     He  had  none  of  the  histrionic  vivid- 
ness of  his  successor  in  the  post,  Bjornstjerne  Bjornson, 
who,  like  all  great  producers,  could  not  only  tell  the  act- 
ors what  to  do,  but  show  them  how  to  do  it.     Perhaps 
it  was  a  sense  of  his  lack  of  impulse  that  induced  the 
management  to  give  him  a  colleague,  one  Herman  Lad- 
ing, with  whom  his  relations  were  none  of  the  happiest. 


10  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT 

Ibsen  is  even  said,  on  one  occasion,  to  have  challenged 
Lading  to  a  duel. 

One  of  the  duties  of  the  "theatre-poet"  was  to  have  a 
new  play  ready  for  each  recurrence  of  the  "Foundation 
Day"  of  the  theatre,  January  2.     On  that  date,  in  1853, 
Ibsen  produced  a  romantic  comedy,  St.  Johns  Night, 
which  was  first  printed  in  the  Literary  Remains  (1909). 
It  is  an  exceedingly  immature  work,  confused  and  triv- 
ial in  intrigue,  and  for  the  most  part  conventional  in 
characterization.     Nevertheless    it    is    interesting,    inas- 
much as  it  contains  the  germs  of  many  ideas  to  which 
he  afterwards  returned  in  his  maturer  works.     In  the 
personage  of  Julian  Paulsen,  for  example— Ibsen's  first 
essay  in  satirical  character-drawing-— we  find  some  traits 
which  reappear   in   Stensgard,   and   others   which  fore- 
shadow Hialmar   Ekdal.     But   it   is   principally  of  the 
Troll-scenes  in  Peer  Gynt  that  we  are  reminded.     One 
of  the  poet's  aims,  it  would  seem,  was  to  point  the  con- 
trast between  true  and  false— between  sincere  and  in- 
sincere—romanticism.    To  this  end,  he  shows  us  a  fairy 
revel  on  St.  John's  Night,  which  is  seen  in  its  true  colors 
by  the  hero  and  heroine,  while  the  ridiculous  Paulsen 
and  his  affected  inamorata  mistake  it  for  a  dance  of  peas- 
ants around  a  bonfire.     Moreover,  Paulsen,  who  is  really 
an  amusing  character,  confesses  that  he  was  consumed 
by  an  ideal  passion  for  the  "huldra"  or  dryad  of  North- 
ern mythology,  until  he  learned  that  she  was  provided 
with    a   tail,    which    shocked    his    aesthetic    sensibilities. 
Thus  at  many  points  we  find  the  poet's  mind   already 
moving  upon  the  plane  of  fantasy  to  which  it  was  to  re- 
turn fourteen  years  later  in  the  second  and  third  acts  of 


INTRODUCTION  11 

Peer  Gynt.  The  play  had  no  success,  and  was  per- 
formed only  twice.  For  the  next  Foundation  Day,  Jan- 
uary 2,  1854,  Ibsen  prepared  a  revised  version  of  The 
Warrior's  Barroic,  already  produced  in  Christiania.  A 
year  later,  January  2,  1855,  Lady  Inger  of  Ostrat  was 
produced— a  work  still  immature,  indeed,  but  giving,  for 
the  first  time,  no  uncertain  promise  of  the  master  dram- 
atist to  come. 

In  an   autobiographical   letter  to  the  Danish  critic, 
Peter  Hansen,  written  from  Dresden  in  1870,  Ibsen  says: 
"Lady  Inger  of  Ostrat  is  the  result  of  a  love-affair— 
hastily  entered  into  and  violently  broken  off— to  which 
several  of  my  minor  poems  may  also  be  attributed,  such 
as  Wild-flowers  and  Pot-plants,  A  Bird-Song,  etc."     The 
heroine  of  this  love-affair  can  now  be  identified  as  a  lady 
named  Henrikke  Hoist,  who  seems  to  have  preserved 
through  a  long  life  the  fresh,  bright  spirit,  the  overflow- 
ing joyousness,  which  attracted  Ibsen  when  she  was  only 
in  her  seventeenth  year.     Their  relation  was  of  the  most 
innocent.     It  went  no  further  than  a  few  surreptitious 
rambles  in  the  romantic  surroundings  of  Bergen,  usu- 
ally with  a  somewhat  older  girl  to  play  propriety,  and 
with  a  bag  of  sugar-plums  to  fill  up  pauses  in  the  con- 
versation.    The  "violent"  ending  seems  to  have  come 
when  the  young  lady's  father  discovered  the  secret  of 
these  excursions,  and  doubtless  placed  her  under  more 
careful  control.     What  there  was  in  this  episode  to  sug- 
gest, or  in  any  way  influence,  Lady  Inger,  I  cannot  under- 
stand.    Nevertheless  the  identification  seems  quite  cer- 
tain.    The  affair  had  a  charming  little  sequel.*  During 


12  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT 

the  days  of  their  love's  young  dream,  Ibsen  treated  the 
"wild-flower"  with  a  sort  of  shy  and  distant  chivalry  at 
which  the  wood -gods  must  have   smiled.     He  avoided 
even  touching  her  hand,  and  always  addressed  her  by 
the  "De"   (you)   of  formal  politeness.     But  when  they 
met  again  after  many  years,  he  a  famous  poet  and  she  a 
middle-aged  matron,  he  instinctively  adopted  the  "Du" 
(thou)   of  affectionate  intimacy,  and   she  responded   in 
kind.     He  asked  her  whether  she  had  recognised  her- 
self in  any  of  his  works,  and  she  replied:  "I  really  don't 
know,  unless  it  be  in  the  parson's  wife  in  Love's  Com-^ 
edy,  with  her  eight  children  and  her  perpetual  knitting." 
"Ibsen  protested,"  says  Herr  Paulsen,  in  whose  Samliv 
med  Ibsen  a  full  account  of  the  episode  may  be  read.     It 
is  interesting  to  note  that  the  lady  did  not  recognise  her- 
self in  Elina  Gyldenlove,  any  more  than  we  can. 

It  must  have  been  less  than  a  year  after  the  produc- 
tion of  Lady  Inger  that  Ibsen  made  the  acquaintance  of 
the  lady  who  was  to  be  his  wife.  Susanna  Dae  Thore- 
sen  was  a  daughter  (by  his  second  marriage)  of  Pro- 
vost1 Thoresen,  of  Bergen,  whose  third  wife,  Magdalene 
Krag,  afterwards  became  an  authoress  of  some  celebrity. 
It  is  recorded  that  Ibsen's  first  visit  to  the  Thoresen 
household  took  place  on  January  7,  1856,2  and  that  on 
that  occasion,  speaking  to  Susanna  Thoresen,  he  was 
suddenly  moved  to  say  to  her:  "You  are  now  Elina,  but 

>  Provost  ("Provst")  is  an  ecclesiastical  title,  roughly  equivalent 

a  See  article  by  Dr.  Julius  Elias  in  Die  neue  Rundschau,  December, 
1906  p  1463.  Dr.  Brahm,  in  the  same  magazine  (p.  1414),  writes 
as  though  this  were  Ibsen's  first  meeting  with  his  wife;  and  a  note 
by  Halvdan  Koht,  in  the  Norwegian  edition  of  Ibsen  s  Letters, 


INTRODUCTION  13 

in  time  you  will  become  Lady  Inger."  Twenty  years 
later,  at  Christmas,  1876,  he  gave  his  wife  a  copy  of  the 
German  translation  of  Lady  Ingcr,  with  the  following 
inscription  on  the  fly-leaf: 

"This  book  is  by  right  indefeasible  thine, 
Who  in  spirit  art  born  of  the  Ostrat  line." 

In  Lady  Inger  Ibsen  has  chosen  a  theme  from  the 
very  darkest  hour  of  Norwegian  history.  King  Sverre's 
democratic  monarchy,  dating  from  the  beginning  of  the 
thirteenth  century,  had  paralysed  the  old  Norwegian  no- 
bility. One  by  one  the  great  families  died  out,  their 
possessions  being  concentrated  in  the  hands  of  the  few 
survivors,  who  regarded  their  wealth  as  a  privilege  un- 
hampered by  obligations.  At  the  beginning  of  the  six- 
teenth century,  then,  patriotism  and  public  spirit  were 
almost  dead  among  the  nobles,  while  the  monarchy,  be- 
fore which  the  old  aristocracy  had  fallen,  was  itself  c'ead, 
or  rather  merged  (since  1380)  in  the  Crown  of  Denmark. 
The  peasantry,  too,  had  long  ago  lost  all  effective  voice 
in  political  affairs;  so  that  Norway  lay  prone  and  inert 
at  the  mercy  of  her  Danish  rulers.  It  is  at  the  moment 
of  deepest  national  degradation  that  Ibsen  has  placed 
his  tragedy;  and  the  degradation  was,  in -fact,  even  deep- 
er than  he  represents  it,  for  the  longings  for  freedom,  the 

Beem8  to  bear  out  this  view.  But  it  would  appear  that  what  Fru 
Ibsen  told  Dr.  Elias  was  that  on  the  date  mentioned  Ibsen  for  the 
first  time  visited  at  her  father's  house."  The  terms  of  the  anecdote 
almost  compel  us  to  assume  that  he  had  previously  met  her  else- 
where It  seems  almost  inconceivable  that  Ibsen,  of  nil  people, 
should  have  made  such  a  speech  to  a  lady  on  their  very  first  meeting. 


14  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT 

stirrings  of  revolt,  which  form  the  motive-power  of  the 
action,  are  invented,  or  at  any  rate  idealised,  by  the 
poet.  Fru  Inger  Ottisdatter  Gyldenlove  was,  in  fact, 
the  greatest  personage  of  her  day  in  Norway.  She  was 
the  best-born,  the  wealthiest,  and  probably  the  ablest 
woman  in  the  land.  At  the  time  when  Ibsen  wrote,  lit- 
tle more  than  this  seems  to  have  been  known  of  her; 
so  that  in  making  her  the  victim  of  a  struggle  between  pa- 
triotic duty  and  maternal  love,  he  was  perhaps  poetising 
in  the  absence  of  positive  evidence,  rather  than  in  oppo- 
sition to  it.  Subsequent  research,  unfortunately,  has 
shown  that  Fru  Inger  was  but  little  troubled  with  patri- 
otic aspirations.  She  was  a  hard  and  grasping  woman, 
ambitious  of  social  power  and  predominance,  but  inac- 
cessible, or  nearly  so,  to  national  feeling.  It  was  from 
sheer  social  ambition,  and  with  no  qualms  of  patriotic 
conscience,  that  she  married  her  daughters  to  Danish 
noblemen.  True,  she  lent  some  support  to  the  insur- 
rection of  the  so-called  "Dale-junker,"  a  peasant  who 
gave  himself  out  as  the  heir  of  Sten  Sture,  a  former  re- 
gent of  Sweden;  but  there  is  not  a  tittle  of  ground  for 
making  this  pretender  her  son.  He  might,  indeed,  have 
become  her  son-in-law,  for,  speculating  on  his  chances 
of  success,  she  had  betrothed  one  of  her  daughters  to 
him.  Thus  the  Fru  Inger  of  Ibsen's  play  is,  in  her  char- 
acter and  circumstances,  as  much  a  creation  of  the  poet's 
as  though  no  historic  personage  of  that  name  had  ever 
existed.  Olaf  Skaktavl,  Nils  Lykke,  and  Elina  Gylden- 
love are  also  historic  names;  but  with  them,  too,  Ibsen 
has  dealt  with  the  utmost  freedom.  The  real  Nils 
Lykke  was  married  in  1528  to  the  real  Elina  Gylden- 


INTRODUCTION  15 

love.  She  died  four  years  later,  leaving  him  two  chil- 
dren: and  thereupon  he  would  fain  have  married  her 
sister  Lucia.  Such  a  union,  however,  was  regarded  as 
incestuous,  and  the  lovers  failed  in  their  effort  to  obtain 
a  special  dispensation.  Lucia  then  became  her  brother- 
in-law's  mistress,  and  bore  him  a  son.  But  the  ecclesi- 
astical law  was  in  those  days  not  to  be  trifled  with; 
Nils  Lykke  was  thrown  into  prison  for  his  crime,  con- 
demned, and  killed  in  his  dungeon,  in  the  year  of 
grace  1535.  Thus  there  was  a  tragedy  ready-made  in 
Ibsen's  material,  though  it  was  not  the  tragedy  he  chose 
to  write. 

The  Bergen  public  did  not  greatly  take  to  Lady  Inger, 
and  it  was  performed,  in  its  novelty,  only  twice.  Nor 
is  the  reason  far  to  seek.  The  extreme  complexity  of 
the  intrigue,  and  the  lack  of  clear  guidance  through  its 
mazes,  probably  left  the  Bergen  audiences  no  less  puz- 
zled than  the  London  audiences  who  saw  the  play  at  the 
Scala  Theatre  in  1906.1  It  is  a  play  which  can  be  ap- 
preciated only  by  spectators  who  know  it  beforehand. 
Such  audiences  it  has  often  found  in  Norway,  where  it 
was  revived  at  the  Christiania  Theatre  in  1875;  but  in 
Denmark  and  Germany,  though  it  has  been  produced 
several  times,  it  has  never  been  very  successful.  We 
need  go  no  further  than  the  end  of  the  first  act  to  under- 
stand the  reason.  On  an  audience  which  knows  noth- 
ing of  the  play,  the  sudden  appearance  of  a  "Stranger," 
to  whose*  identity  it  has  not  the  slightest  clue,  can  pro- 

1  Stage  Society  performances,  January  28  and  29,  1906.  Lady 
Inger  was  played  by  Miss  Edyth  Olive,  Elina  by  Miss  Alice  Craw- 
ford, Nils  Lykke  by  Mr.  Henry  Ainley,  Olaf  Skaktavl  by  Mr.  Alfred 
Brydone,  and  Nils  Stensson  by  Mr.  Harcourt  Williams. 


16  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT 

duce  no  effect  save  one  of  bewilderment.     To  rely  on 
such  an  incident  for  what  was  evidently  intended  to  be 
a  thnllmg  "curtain,"  was  to  betray  extreme  inexperi- 
ence; and  this  single  trait  is  typical  of  much  in  the  play. 
Nevertheless  Lady  Inger  marks  a  decisive  advance  in 
Ibsen  s  development.     It  marks,  one  may  say,  the  birth 
of  his  power  of  invention.     He  did  not  as  yet  know  how 
to  restrain  or  clarify  his  invention,  and  he  made  clumsy 
use  of  the  stock  devices  of  a  bad  school.     But  he  had 
once    for    all    entered    upon    that    course    of    technical 
twining   which   it    took   him    five-and-twenty    years   to 
complete.     He  was  learning  much  that  he  was  after- 
wards to  unlearn;    but  had  he  not  undergone  this  ap- 
prenticeship, he  would   never  have  been  the  master  he 
ultimately  became. 

When  Ibsen  entered  upon  his  duties  at  the  Bergen 
Theatre,  the  influence  of  Eugene  Scribe  and  his  imita- 
tors was  at  its  very  height.     Of  the  one  hundred  and 
forty-five  plays  produced  during  his  tenure  of  office,  more 
than  half  (seventy-five)  were  French,  twenty-one  being 
by  Scribe  himself,  and  at  least  half  the  remainder  by 
adepts  of  his  school,  Bayard,  Dumanoir,  Melesville  etc 
It  is  to  this  school  that  Ibsen,  in  Lady  Inger,  proclaims 
his  adherence;  and  he  did  not  finally  shake  off  its  in- 
fluence until  he  wrote  the  Third  Act  of  A  DolVs  House 
m    1879.     Although   the    romantic  environment  of  the 
play,  and  the  tragic  intensity  of  the  leading  character 
tend  to  disguise  the  relationship,  there  can  be  ho  doubt 
that  Lady  Inger  is,  in  essence,  simply  a  French  drama  of 
intrigue,  constructed  after  the  method  of  Scribe,  as  ex- 
emplified in  Adrienne  Lecouvreur,  Les  Conies  de  la  Heine 


INTRODUCTION  17 

de  Navarre,1  and  a  dozen  other  French  plays,  with  the 
staging  of  which  the  poet  was  then  occupied.  It  might 
seem  that  the  figure  of  Elina,  brooding  over  the  thought 
of  her  dead  sister,  coffined  in  the  vault  below  the  ban- 
queting-hall,  belonged  rather  to  German  romanticism; 
but  there  are  plenty  of  traces  of  German  romanticism 
even  in  the  French  plays  with  which  the  good  people 
of  Bergen  were  regaled.  For  the  suggestion  of  grave- 
vaults  and  coffined  heroines,  for  example,  Ibsen  need 
have  gone  no  further  than  Dumas's  Catfierine  Howard, 
which  he  produced  in  March,  1853.  I  do  not,  however, 
pretend  that  his  romantic  colouring  came  to  him  from 
France.  It  came  to  him,  doubtless,  from  Germany,  by 
way  of  Denmark.  My  point  is  that  the  conduct  of  the 
intrigue  in  Lady  Inger  shows  the  most  unmistakable 
marks  of  his  study  of  the  great  French  plot-manipulators. 
Its  dexterity  and  its  artificiality  alike  are  neither  Ger- 
man nor  Danish,  but  French.  Ibsen  had  learnt  the 
great  secret  of  Scribe — the  secret  of  dramatic  movement. 
The  play  is  full  of  those  ingenious  complications,  mis- 
takes of  identity,  and  rapid  turns  of  fortune  by  which 
Scribe  enchained  the  interest  of  his  audiences.  Its  cen- 
tral theme — a  mother  plunging  into  intrigue  and  crime 
for  the  advancement  of  her  son,  only  to  find  that  her  son 
himself  has  been  her  victim — is  as  old  as  Greek  tragedy. 
The  secondary  story,  too — that  of  Elina's  wild  infatua- 
tion for  the  betrayer  and  practically  the  murderer  of  her 
sister — could  probably  be  paralleled  in  the  ballad  litera- 

1  These  two  plays  were  produced,  respectively,  in  March  and 
October,  1854,  at  the  very  time  when  Ibsen  must  have  been  plan- 
ning and  composing  Lady  Inger. 


18  LADY   INGER   OP  OSTRAT 

ture  of  Scotland,  Germany,  or  Denmark,  and  might  in- 
deed, have  been  told,  in  verse  or  prose,  by  Sir  Walter 
Scott  But  these  very  un-Parisian  elements  are  handled 
in  a  fundamentally  Parisian  fashion,  and  Ibsen  is  clearly 
fascinated,  for  the  time,  by  the  ideal  of  what  was  after- 
wards to  be  known  as  the  "well-made  play."  The  fact 
that  the  result  is  in  reality  an«ll-made  play  in  no  way  in- 
validates this  theory.  It  is  perhaps  the  final  condemna- 
tion of  the  well-made  play  that  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten 
—and  even  in  the  hands  of  far  more  experienced  play- 
wrights than  the  young  Bergen  "  theatre-poet  "-it  is  apt 
to  prove  ill-made  after  all. 

Far  be  it  from  me,  however,  to  speak  in  pure  dispar- 
agement of  Lady  Inger.  With  all  its  defects,  it  seems  to 
me  manifestly  the  work  of  a  great  poet-the  only  one  of 
Ibsen's  plays  prior  to  The  Vikings  at  Helgeland  of  which 
this  can  be  said.  It  may  be  that  early  impressions  mis- 
lead me;  but  I  still  cannot  help  seeing  in  Lady  Inger  a 
figure  of  truly  tragic  grandeur;  in  Nils  Lykke  one  of  the 
few  really  seductive  seducers  in  literature;  and  in  many 
passages  of  the  dialogue,  the  touch  of  a  master  hand 
r  W.  A. 


LADY  INGER  OF   OSTRAT 

(1855) 


CHARACTERS 

Lady  Inger  Ottisdaughter  Romer,  widow  of  High  Steward 
Nils  Gyldenlove. 

Elina  Gyldenlove,  her  daughter. 

Nils  Lykke,  Danish  knight  and  councillor. 

Olaf  Skaktavl,  an  outlawed  Norwegian  noble. 

Nils  Stensson. 

Jens  Bielke,  Swedish  commander. 
1  Biorn,  majordomo  at  Ostrat. 
NFinn,  a  servant. 

Einar  Huk,  bailiff  at  Ostrat. 

Servants,  peasants,  and  Swedish  men-at-arms. 


The  action  takes  place  at  Ostrat  Manor,  on  the  Trondhiem  Fiord, 
in  the  year  1528. 

[Pronunciation  of  Names.— Ostrat  =  Ostrot;  Elina  (Nor- 
wegian, Eline)  =  Eleena;  Stensson  -  Staynson;  Biorn  =  Byorn;^ 
Jens  Bielke  -  Yens  Byelke;  Huk  =  Hook.     The  gr's  in  "Inger 
and  in  "Gyldenlove"  are,  of  course,  hard.     The  final  es  and 
the  6's  pronounced  much  as  in  German.] 


LADY  INGER  OF   OSTRAt 

DRAMA   IN   FIVE   ACTS 


ACT   FIRST 


A  room  at  Ostrat.  Through  an  open  door  in  the  back,  the 
Banquet  Hall  is  seen  in  faint  moonlight,  which  shines 
fitfully  through  a  deep  bow-window  in  the  opposite 
wall.  To  the  right,  an  entrance-door;  further  for- 
ward, a  curtained  window.  On  the  left,  a  door  lead- 
ing to  the  inner  rooms;  further  forward  a  large  open 
fireplace,  which  casts  a  glow  over  the  room.  It  is  a 
stormy  evening. 

Biorn  and  Finn  are  sitting  by  the  fireplace.  The  latter 
is  occupied  in  polishing  a  helmet.  Several  pieces  of 
armour  lie  near  them,  along  with  a  sword  and  shield. 

Finn. 

[After  a  pause.]     Who  was  Knut1  Alfson  ? 

Biorn. 
My  Lady  says  he  was  the  last  of  Norway's  knighthood. 

Finn. 

And  the  Danes  killed  him  at  Oslo-fiord  ? 

1  Pronounce  Knoot. 
21 


M  LADY  INGER  OF  OSTRAT         [act  i 

BlORN. 

If  you  know  not  that,  ask  any  child  of  five. 

Finn. 

So  Knut  Alfson  was  the  last  of  our  knighthood  ?  And 
now  he's  dead  and  gone!  [Holds  up  the  helmet.]  Well, 
thou  must  e'en  be  content  to  hang  scoured  and  bright  in 
the  Banquet  Hall;  for  what  art  thou  now  but  an  empty 
nut-shell?  The  kernel— the  worms  have  eaten  that 
many  a  winter  agone. 

What  say  you,  Biorn— may  not  one  call  Norway's  land 
an  empty  nut-shell,  even  like  the  helmet  here;  bright 
without,  worm-eaten  within  ? 

Biorn. 
Hold  your  peace,  and  mind  your  task!— Is  the  helmet 
ready  ? 

Finn. 

It  shines  like  silver  in  the  moonlight. 

Biorn. 
Then  put  it  by.— See- here;  scrape  the  rust  off  the 
sword. 

Finn. 

[Turning   the   sword   over   a?id   examining   it]     Is   it 
worth  while  ? 

Biorn. 
What  mean  you  ? 

Finn. 
The  edge  is  gone. 


act  i]  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  23 

BlORN. 

What's  that  to  you  ?     Give  it  me. — Here,  take  the 
shield. 

Finn. 

[As  before.]     There  is  no  grip  to  it! 

Biorn. 
[Mutters.]     Let  me  get  a  grip  on  y  o  u 


What  now  ? 


[Finn  hums  to  himself  for  a  while. 
Biorn. 

Finn. 


An  empty  helmet,  a  sword  with  no  edge,  a  shield  with 

no  grip — so  it  has  all  come  to  that.     Who  can  blame 

Lady  Inger  if  she  leaves  such  weapons  to  hang  scoured 

and  polished   on  the  walls,   instead  of  rusting  them  in 

Danish  blood  ? 

• 
Biorn. 

Folly !     Is  there  not  peace  in  the  land  ? 

Finn. 

Peace  ?  Ay,  when  the  peasant  has  shot  away  his  last 
arrow,  and  the  wolf  has  reft  the  last  lamb  from  the  fold, 
then  is  there  peace  between  them.  But  'tis  a  strange 
friendship.  Well,  well;  let  that  pass.  'Tis  fitting,  as  I 
said,  that  the  harness  hang  bright  in  the  hall;  for  you 
know  the  old  saw:  "Call  none  a  man  but  the  knightly 
man."     So  now  that  we  have  never  a  knight  in  the  land, 


24  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  [act  i 

we  have  never  a  man;  and  where  no  man  is,  there  must 
women  order  things;  therefore 

Biorn. 

Therefore— therefore  I  bid  you  hold  your  foul  prate! 

[Rises. 

The  evening  wears  on.     Enough;  you  may  hang  the 
helmet  and  armour  in  the  hall  again. 

Finn. 

[In  a  low  voice.]     Nay,  best  let  it  be  till  to-morrow. 

Biorn. 

What,  do  you  fear  the  dark  ? 

Finn. 

Not  by  day.  And  if  so  be  I  fear  it  at  even,  I  am  not 
the  only  one/  Ah,  you  may  look;  I  tell  you  in  the  house- 
folk's  room  there  is  talk  of  many  things.  [Lower.]  They 
say  that,  night  by  night,  a  tall  figure,  clad  in  black,  walks 
the  Banquet  Hall. 

Biorn. 
Old  wives'  tales! 

Finn. 

Ah,  but  they  all  swear  'tis  true. 

Biorn. 
That  I  well  believe. 

Finn. 
The  strangest  of  all  is  that  Lady  Inger  thinks  the 
same 


act  i]  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  25 

BlORN. 

[Starting.]     Lady  Inger?     What  does  she  think  ? 

Finn. 

What  Lady  Inger  thinks  ?  I  warrant  few  can  tell 
that.  But  sure  it  is  that  she  has  no  rest  in  her.  See 
you  not  how  day  by  day  she  grows  thinner  and  paler? 
[Looks  keenly  at  him.]     They  say  she  never  sleeps — and 

that  it  is  because  of  the  black  figure 

[While  he  is  speaking,  Elina  Gyldenlove  has  ap- 
peared in  the  half-open  door  on  the  left.  She  stops 
and  listens,  unobserved. 

Biorn. 
And  you  believe  such  follies? 

Finn. 

Well,  half  and  half.  There  be  folk,  too,  that  read 
things  another  way.  But  that  is  pure  malice,  I'll  be 
bound. — Hearken,  Biorn — know  you  the  song  that  is 
going  round  the  country  ? 

Biorn. 
A  song? 

Finn. 

Ay,  'tis  on  all  folks'  lips.  'Tis  a  shameful  scurril 
thing,  for  sure;  yet  it  goes  prettily.     Just  listen: 

[Sings  in  a  low  voice. 

Dame  Inger  sitteth  in  Ostrat  fair, 
She  wraps  her  in  costly  furs — 


26  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  [act  i 

She  decks  her  in  velvet  and  ermine  and  vair, 

Red  gold  are  the  beads  that  she  twines  in  her  hair — 

But  small  peace  in  that  soul  of  hers. 

Dame  Inger  hath  sold  her  to  Denmark's  lord. 
She  bringeth  her  folk  'neath  the  stranger's  yoke — 
In  guerdon  whereof 

[Biorn  enraged,  seizes  him  by  the  throat.     Elina 
Gyldenlove  ivithdraws  without  having  been  seen. 

Biorn. 

I  will  send  you  guerdonless  to  the  foul  fiend,  if  you 
prate  of  Lady  Inger  but  one  unseemly  word  more. 

Finn. 

[Breaking  from   his  grasp.]     Why — did   I  make   the 
song?  [The  blast  of  a  horn  is  heard  from  the  right. 

Biorn. 
Hark — what  is  that  ? 

Finn. 
A  horn.     Then  there  come  guests  to-night. 

Biorn. 

[At  the  window.]     They  are  opening  the  gate.     I  hear 
the  clatter  of  hoofs  in  the  courtyard.    It  must  be  a  knight. 

Finn. 

A  knight  ?     Nay,  that  can  scarce  be. 


act  i]  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  27 

BlORN. 

Why  not  ? 

Finn. 

Did  you  not  say  yourself:  the  last  of  our  knighthood 
is  dead  and  gone  ?  \Goes  out  to  the  right. 

Biorn. 

The  accursed  knave,  with  his  prying  and  peering! 
What  avails  all  my  striving  to  hide  and  hush  things? 
They  whisper  of  her  even  now — ;  soon  all  men  will  be 
shouting  aloud  that 

Elina. 

[Comes  in  again  through  tlie  door  on  the  left;  looks 
round  her,  and  says  with  suppressed  emotion:]  Are  you 
alone,  Biorn  ? 

Biorn. 

Is  it  you,  Mistress  Elina? 

Elina. 

Come,  Biorn,  tell  me  one  of  your  stories;  I  know  you 
can  tell  others  than  those  that 

Biorn. 
A  story  ?     Now — so  late  in  the  evening ? 

Elina. 

If  you  count  from  the  time  when  it  grew  dark  at 
Ostrat,  then  'tis  late  indeed. 


28  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  [act  i 

BlORN. 

What  ails  you  ?  Has  aught  crossed  you  ?  You  seem 
so  restless. 

Elina. 
Maybe  so. 

Biorn. 

There  is  something  amiss.  I  have  hardly  known  you 
this  half  year  past. 

Elina. 

Bethink  you:  this  half  year  past  my  dearest  sister 
Lucia  has  been  sleeping  in  the  vault  below. 

Biorn. 

That  is  not  all,  Mistress  Elina — it  is  not  that  alone 
that  makes  you  now  thoughtful  and  white  and  silent, 
now  restless  and  ill  at  ease,  as  you  are  to-night. 

Elina. 

Not  that  alone,  you  think  ?  And  wherefore  not  ?  Was 
she  not  gentle  and  pure  and  fair  as  a  summer  night  ? 
Biorn, — I  tell  you,  Lucia  was  dear  to  me  as  my  life. 
Have  you  forgotten  how  many  a  time,  when  we  were 
children,  we  sat  on  your  knee  in  the  winter  evenings? 
You  sang  songs  to  us,  and  told  us  tales 

Biorn. 
Ay,  then  you  were  blithe  and  gay. 

Elina. 

Ah,  then,  Biorn !  Then  I  lived  a  glorious  life  in  fable- 
land,  and  in  my  own  imaginings.     Can  it  be  that  the 


act  i]  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  29 

sea-strand  was  naked  then  as  now  ?  If  it  was  so,  I 
knew  it  not.  'Twas  there  I  loved  to  go.  weaving  all  my 
fair  romances;  my  heroes  came  from  afar  and  sailed 
again  across  the  sea;  I  lived  in  their  midst,  and  set  forth 
with  them  when  they  sailed  away.  [Sinks  on  a  chair.] 
Now  I  feel  so  faint  and  weary;  I  can  live  no  longer  in 
my  tales.  They  are  only — tales.  [Rising,  vehemently.] 
Biorn,  know  you  what  has  made  me  sick?  A  truth;  a 
hateful,  hateful  truth,  that  gnaws  me  day  and  night. 

Biorn. 
What  mean  you  ? 

Elina. 

Do  you  remember  how  sometimes  you  would  give  us 
good  counsel  and  wise  saws  ?  Sister  Lucia  followed  them; 
but  I — ah,  well-a-day! 

Biorn. 
[Consoling  her.]     Well,  well ! 

*  Elina. 

I  know  it — I  was  proud,  overweening!  In  all  our 
games,  I  would  still  be  the  Queen,  because  I  was  the 
tallest,  the  fairest,  the  wisest!     I  know  it! 

Biorn. 
That  is  true. 

Elina. 

Once  you  took  me  by  the  hand  and  looked  earnestly 
at  me,  and  said:  "Be  not  proud  of  your  fairness,  or  your 
wisdom;  but  be  proud  as  the  mountain  eagle  as  often 
as  you  think:  I  am  Inger  Gyldenlove's  daughter!" 


30  LADY  INGER   OF   OSTRAT  [act  i 

BlORN. 

And  was  it  not  matter  enough  for  pride  ? 

Elina. 

You  told  me  so  often  enough,  Biorn!  Oh,  you  told 
me  many  a  tale  in  those  days.  [Presses  his  hand.] 
Thanks  for  them  all! — Now,  tell  me  one  more;  it  might 
make  me  light  of  heart  again,  as  of  old. 

Biorn. 
You  are  a  child  no  longer. 

Elina. 

Nay,  indeed!  But  let  me  dream  that  I  am. — Come, 
tell  on! 

[Throws  herself  into  a  chair.     Biorn  sits  on  the  edge 
of  the  high  hearth. 

Biorn. 
Once  upon  a  time  there  was  'a  high-born  knight 


Elina. 

[Who  has  been  listening  restlessly  in  the  direction  of  the 
hall,  seizes  his  arm  and  breaks  out  in  a  vehement  whisper.] 
Hush!     No  need  to  shout  so  loud;  I  can  hear  well! 

Biorn. 

[More  softly.]  Once  upon  a  time  there  was  a  high- 
born knight,  of  whom  there  went  the  strange  report 

[Elina  half  rises,  and  listens  in  anxious  suspense  in 
the  direction  of  the  hall. 


act  i]  LADY  INGER   OF   OSTRAT  31 

BlORN. 

Mistress  Elina, — what  ails  you  ? 

Elina. 

[Sits  down  again.]     Me  ?     Nothing.     Go  on. 

BlORN. 

Well,  as  I  was  saying — did  this  knight  but  look  straight       yr 
in  a  woman's  eyes,  never  could  she  forget  it  after;  her    V 
thoughts  must  follow  him  wherever  he  went,  and  she 
must  waste  away  with  sorrow. 

Elina. 

I  have  heard  that  tale. — Moreover,  'tis  no  tale  you  are 
telling,  for  the  knight  you  speak  of  is  Nils  Lykke,  who 
sits  even  now  in  the  Council  of  Denmark 

BlORN. 

Maybe  so. 

Elina. 
Well,  let  it  pass — go  on! 

BlORN. 

Now  it  happened  once  on  a  time 

Elina. 

[Rises  suddenly.]     Hush;  be  still! 

Biorn. 
What  now  ?     What  is  the  matter  ? 


32  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  [act  i 

Elina. 
[Listening.]     Do  you  hear  ? 

Biorn. 
What? 

Elina. 
It  is  there!     Yes,  by  the  cross  of  Christ,  it  is  there! 

Biorn. 
[Rises.]     What  is  there  ?     Where  ? 

Elina. 

She  herself — in  the  hall 

[Goes  hastily  towards  the  hall. 

Biorn. 

[Following .]  How  can  you  think —  ?  Mistress  Elina, 
— go  to  your  chamber! 

Elina. 

Hush;  stand  still!  Do  not  move;  do  not  let  her  see 
you!  Wait — the  moon  is  coming  out.  Can  you  not 
see  the  black-robed  figure ? 

Biorn. 

By  all  the  saints ! 

Elina. 

Do  you  see — she  turns  Knut  Alfson's  picture  to  the 
wall.    Ha-ha;  be  sure  it  looks  her  too  straight  in  the  eyes ! 

Biorn. 
Mistress  Elina,  hear  me! 


act  i]  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  33 

Elina. 

[Going  back  towards  the  fireplace.]  Now  I  know  what 
I  know! 

Biorn. 

'[To  himself.]     Then  it  is  true! 

Elina. 
Who  was  it,  Biorn  ?     Who  was  it  ? 

Biorn. 
You  saw  as  plainly  as  I. 

Elina. 
Well  ?     Whom  did  I  see  ? 

Biorn. 
You  saw  your  mother. 

Elina. 

[Half  to  herself]  Night  after  night  I  have  heard  her 
steps  in  there.  I  have  heard  her  whispering  and  moan- 
ing like  a  soul  in  pain.  And  what  says  the  song — ? 
Ah,  now  I  know!     Now  I  know  that 

Biorn. 
Hush! 

[Lady  Inger  Gyldenlove  enters  rapidly  from  the 
hall,  without  noticing  the  others;  sfie  goes  to  the 
window,  draws  tlie  curtain,  and  gazes  out  as  if 
watching  for  some  one  on  the  high  road;  after  a 
while,  she  turns  and  goes  slowly  back  into  the  hall. 


34  LADY   INGER  OF   OSTRAT  [act  i 

Elina. 

[Softly,  following  her  with  her  eyes.]     White,  white  as 

the  dead ! 

[A  n  uproar  of  many  voices  is  heard  outside  the  door 
on  the  right. 

Biorn. 
What  can  this  be  ? 

Elina. 

Go  out  and  see  what  is  amiss. 

[Einab  Huk,  the  bailiff,  appears  in  the  anteroom, 
with  a  crowd  of  Retainers  and  Peasants. 

Einar  Huk. 

[In  the  doorway.]     Straight  in  to  her!     And   be  not 
abashed ! 

Biorn. 
What  seek  you  ? 

Einar  Huk. 

Lady  Inger  herself. 

Biorn. 

Lady  Inger  ?     So  late  ? 

Einar  Huk. 
Late,  but  time  enough,  I  wot. 

The  Peasants. 

Yes,  yes;  she  must  hear  us  now! 

[The  whole  rabble  crowds  into  the  room.  At  the  same 
moment  Lady  Inger  appears  in  the  doorway  of  the 
hall.     A  sudden  silence. 


act  i]  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  35 

Lady  Inger. 
What  would  you  with  me  ? 

ElNAR    HUK. 

We  sought  you,  noble  lady,  to 

Lady  Inger. 
Well — say  on! 

Einar  Huk. 

Why,  we  are  not  ashamed  of  our  errand.     In  one  word 
— we  come  to  pray  you  for  weapons  and  leave 

Lady  Inger. 
Weapons  and  leave —  ?     And  for  what  ? 

Einar  Huk. 

There  has  come  a  rumour  from  Sweden  that  the  people 
of  the  Dales  have  risen  against  King  Gustav 

Lady  Inger. 
The  people  of  the  Dales  ? 

Einar  Huk. 
Ay,  so  the  tidings  run,  and  they  seem  sure  enough. 

Lady  Inger. 

Well — if  it  were  so — what  have  you  to  do  with  the 
Dale-folk's  rising? 

The  Peasants. 

We    will    join    them!     We    will    help!     We   will    free 
ourselves! 


36  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  [act  i 

Lady  Inger. 
[  To  herself.']     Can  the  time  be  come  ? 

Einar  Huk. 

From  all  our  borderlands  the  peasants  are  pouring 
across  to  the  Dales.  Even  outlaws  that  have  wandered 
for  years  in  the  mountains  are  venturing  down  to  the 
homesteads  again,  and  drawing  men  together,  and  whet- 
ting their  rusty  swords. 

Lady  Inger. 

[After  a  pause.]  Tell  me,  men — have  you  thought  well 
of  this  ?  Have  you  counted  the  cost,  if  King  Gustav's 
men  should  win  ? 

Biorn. 

[Softly  and  imploringly  to  Lady  Inger.]  Count  the 
cost  to  the  Danes  if  King  Gustav's  men  should  lose. 

Lady  Inger. 

[Evasively.]     That  reckoning  is  not  for  me  to  make. 

[Turns  to  the  people. 

You  know  that  King  Gustav  is  sure  of  help  from  Den- 
mark. King  Frederick  is  his  friend,  and  will  never  leave 
him  in  the  lurch 

Einar  Huk. 

But  if  the  people  were  now  to  rise  all  over  Norway's 
land  ? — if  we  all  rose  as  one  man,  nobles  and  peasants 
together  ? — Ay,  Lady  Inger  Gyldenlove,  the  time  we  have 
waited  for  is  surely  come.  We  have  but  to  rise  now  to 
drive  the  strangers  from  the  land. 


act  i]  LADY   INCxER   OF   OSTRAT  37 

The  Peasants. 

Ay,  out  with  the  Danish  sheriffs!  Out  with  the  for- 
eign masters!     Out  with  the  Councillors'  lackeys! 

Lady  Inger. 

[To  herself.]  Ah,  there  is  metal  in  them;  and  yet, 
yet ! 

BlORN. 

[To  himself.]  She  is  of  two  minds.  [To  Elina.] 
What  say  you  now,  Mistress  Elina — have  you  not  sinned 
in  misjudging  your  mother? 

Elina. 

Biorn — if  my  eyes  have  lied  to  me,  I  could  tear  them 
out  of  my  head! 

Einar  Huk. 

See  you  not,  my  noble  lady,  King  Gustav  must  be 
dealt  with  first.  Were  h  i  s  power  once  gone,  the  Danes 
cannot  long  hold  this  land 

Lady  Inger. 
And  then? 

Einar  Huk. 

Then  we  shall  be  free.  We  shall  have  no  more  for- 
eign masters,  and  can  choose  ourselves  a  king,  as  the 
Swedes  have  done  before  us. 

Lady  Inger. 

[With  animation.]  A  king  for  ourselves!  Are  you 
thinking  of  the  Sture1  stock? 

1  Pronounce  StoorS. 


38  LADY   INGER  OF   OSTRAT  [act  i 

ElNAR    HUK. 

King  Christiern  and  others  after  him  have  swept  bare 
our  ancient  houses.  The  best  of  our  nobles  are  outlaws 
on  the  mountain  paths,  if  so  be  they  still  live.  Never- 
theless, it  might  still  be  possible  to  find  one  or  other 
shoot  of  the  old  stems 

Lady    Inger 

[Hastily.]  Enough,  Einar  Huk,  enough!  [To  her- 
self.]    Ah,  my  dearest  hope! 

[Turns  to  the  Peasants  and  Retainers. 

I  have  warned  you,  now,  as  well  as  I  can.  I  have  told 
you  how  great  is  the  risk  you  run.  But  if  you  are  fixed 
in  your  purpose,  'twere  folly  in  me  to  forbid  what  I  have 
no  power  to  prevent. 

Einar  Huk. 
Then  we  have  your  leave  to ? 

Lady  Inger. 

You  have  your  own  firm  will;  take  counsel  with  that. 
If  it  be  as  you  say,  that  you  are  daily  harassed  and  op- 
pressed      I  know  but  little  of  these  matters.     I  will 

not  know  more !  What  can  I,  a  lonely  woman —  ?  Even 
if  you  were  to  plunder  the  Banquet  Hall — and  there's 
many  a  good  weapon  on  the  walls — you  are  the  masters 
at  Ostrat  to-night.  You  must  do  as  seems  good  to  you. 
Good-night! 

[Loud  cries  of  joy  from  the  multitude.  Candles  are 
lighted;  the  Retainers  bring  out  weapons  of  dif- 
ferent kinds  from  the  hall. 


act  i]  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  39 

BlORN. 

[Seizes  Lady  Inger's  liand  as  she  is  going.]  Thanks, 
my  noble  and  high-souled  mistress!  I,  that  have  known 
you  from  childhood  up — I  have  never  doubted  you. 

Lady  Inger. 

Hush,  Biorn — 'tis  a  dangerous  game  I  have  ventured 
this  night.  The  others  stake  only  their  lives;  but  I,  trust 
me,  a  thousandfold  more! 

Biorn. 

How  mean  you?  Do  you  fear  for  your  power  and 
your  favour  with ? 

Lady  Inger. 
My  power?     O  God  in  Heaven! 

A  Retainer. 

[Comes  from  tlie  hall  with  a  large  sword.]  See,  here's 
a  real  good  wolf's-tooth!  With  this  will  I  flay  the  blood- 
suckers' lackeys! 

ElNAR   HUK. 

[To  another.]     What  is  that  you  have  found  ? 

The  Retainer. 
The  breastplate  they  call  Herlof  Hyttefad's. 

ElNAR    HUK. 

'Tis  too  good  for  such  as  you.     Look,  here  is  the  shaft 
of  Sten  Sture's1  lance;  hang  the  breastplate  upon  it,  and 
we  shall  have  the  noblest  standard  heart  can  desire. 
1  Pronounce  Stayn  Stoor'6. 


40  LADY  INGER  OF  OSTRAT  [act  i 

Finn. 

[Comes  from  the  door  on  the  left,  with  a  letter  in  his 
hand,  and  goes  towards  Lady  Inger.]  I  have  sought  you 
through  all  the  house 

Lady  Inger. 

What  would  you  ? 

Finn. 

[Hands  her  tlie  letter.]  A  messenger  is  come  from 
Trondhiem1  with  a  letter  for  you. 

Lady  Inger. 

Let  me  see!  [Opening  the  letter.]  From  Trondhiem  ? 
What  can  it  be  ?     [Runs  through  the  letter.]     O  God ! 

From  him!    And  here  in  Norway 

[Reads  on  with  strong  emotion,  while  the  men  go  on 
bringing  out  arms  from  the  hall. 

Lady  Inger. 

[To  herself]  He  is  coming  here.  He  is  coming  here 
to-night! — Ay,  then  'tis  with  our  wits  we  must  fight,  not 
with  the  sword. 

Einar  Huk. 

Enough,  enough,  good  fellows;  we  are  well  armed 
now.     Set  we  forth  now  on  our  way! 

Lady  Inger. 

[With  a  sudden  change  of  tone.]  No  man  shall  leave 
my  house  to-night! 

1  Pronounce  Tronyem. 


act  i]  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  41 

ElNAR    HUK. 

But  the  wind  is  fair,  noble  lady;  'twill  take  us  quickly 
up  the  fiord,  and 

Lady  Inger. 

It  shall  be  as  I  have  said. 

Einar  Huk. 
Are  we  to  wait  till  to-morrow,  then  ? 

Lady  Inger. 

Till  to-morrow,  and  longer  still.     No  armed  man  shall 
go  forth  from  Ostrat  yet  awhile. 

[Signs  of  displeasure  among  the  croivd. 

Some  of  the  Peasants. 
We  will  go  all  the  same,  Lady  Inger! 

The  Cry  Spreads. 

Ay,  ay;  we  will  go! 

Lady  Inger. 

[Advancing  a  step  toxcards  them.]     Who  dares  to  move  ? 

[A  silence.     After  a  moment's  pause,  site  adds: 

I  have  thought  for  you.     What  do  you  common  folk 

know  of  the  country's  needs  ?     How  dare  you  judge  of 

such  things  ?     You  must  e'en  bear  your  oppressions  and 

burdens  yet  awhile.     Why  murmur  at  that,  when  you 

see  that  we,  your  leaders,  are  as  ill  bested  as  you  ? 

Take  all  the  weapons  back  to  the  hall.     You  shall  know 
my  further  will  hereafter.     Go! 

[The  Retainers  take  back  the  arms,  and  the  whole 
crowd  then  withdraws  by  the  door  on  the  right. 


42  LADY   INGER  OF   OSTRAT  [act  i 

Elina. 

[Softly  to  Biorn.]     Say  you  still  that  I  have  sinned  in 
misjudging — the  Lady  of  Ostrat  ? 

Lady  Inger. 

[Beckons  *o  Biorn,  and  says.]     Have  a  guest-chamber 
ready. 

Biorn. 

It  is  well,  Lady  Inger! 

Lady  Inger. 
And  let  the  gate  be  open  to  whoever  shall  knock. 

Biorn. 
But ? 

Lady  Inger. 


The  gate  open 


Biorn. 
The  gate  open.  [Goes  out  to  the  right. 

Lady  Inger. 

[To  Elina,  who  has  already  reached  the  door  on  the 
left.]  Stay  here! Elina — my  child — I  have  some- 
thing to  say  to  you  alone. 

Elina. 
I  hear  you. 

Lady  Inger. 
Elina you  think  evil  of  your  mother. 


act  i]  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  43 

Elina. 

I  think,  to  my  sorrow,  what  your  deeds  have  forced 
me  to  think. 

Lady  Inger. 

And  you  answer  as  your  bitter  spirit  bids  you. 

Elina. 

Who  has  filled  my  spirit  with  bitterness?  From  my 
childhood  I  had  been  wont  to  look  up  to  you  as  a  great 
and  high-souled  woman.  'Twas  in  your  likeness  that  I 
pictured  the  women  of  the  chronicles  and  the  Book  of 
Heroes.  I  thought  the  Lord  God  himself  had  set  his 
seal  on  your  brow,  and  marked  you  out  as  the  leader 
of  the  helpless  and  the  oppressed.  Knights  and  nobles 
sang  your  praise  in  the  feast-hall;  and  even  the  peasants, 
far  and  near,  called  you  the  country's  pillar  and  its  hope. 
All  thought  that  through  you  the  good  times  were  to 
come  again!  All  thought  that  through  you  a  new  day 
was  to  dawn  over  the  land!  The  night  is  still  here; 
and  I  scarce  know  if  through  you  I  dare  look  for  any 
morning. 

Lady  Inger. 

'Tis  easy  to  see  whence  you  have  learnt  such  venom- 
ous words.  You  have  let  yourself  give  ear  to  what  the 
thoughtless  rabble  mutters  and  murmurs  about  things  it 
can  little  judge  of. 

Elina. 

"Truth  is  in  the  people's  mouth,"  was  your  word  when 
they  praised  you  in  speech  and  song. 


44  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  [act  i 

Lady  Inger. 

Maybe  so.  But  if  indeed  I  chose  to  sit  here  idle, 
though  it  was  my  part  to  act — think  you  not  that  such 
a  choice  were  burden  enough  for  me,  without  your  add- 
ing to  its  weight  ? 

Elina. 

The  weight  I  add  to  your  burden  crushes  me  no  less 
than  you.  Lightly  and  freely  I  drew  the  breath  of  life, 
so  long  as  I  had  you  to  believe  in.  For  my  pride  is  my 
life;  and  well  might  I  have  been  proud,  had  you  remained 
what  once  you  were. 

Lady  Inger. 

And  what  proves  to  you  that  I  have  not  ?  Elina — 
how  know  you  so  surely  that  you  are  not  doing  your 
mother  wrong? 

Elina. 

[Vehemently.]     Oh,  that  I  were! 

>         Lady  Inger. 

Peace!  You  have  no  right  to  call  your  mother  to  ac- 
count.— With  a  single  word  I  could —  — ;  but  'twould  be 
an  ill  word  for  you  to  hear;  you  must  await  what  time 
shall  bring;  maybe  that 

Elina. 
[Turns  to  go.]     Sleep  well,  my  mother! 

Lady  Inger. 

[Hesitates.]  Nay — stay  with  me;  I  have  still  some- 
what  Come  nearer; — you  must  hear  me,  Elina! 

[Sits  down  by  the  table  in  front  of  the  window. 


act  i]  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  45 

Elina. 
I  hear  you. 

Lady  Inger. 

For  as  silent  as  you  are,  I  know  well  that  you  often 
long  to  be  gone  from  here.  Ostrat  is  too  lonely  and  life- 
less for  you. 

Elina. 

Do  you  wonder  at  that,  my  mother  ? 

Lady  Inger. 

It  rests  with  you  whether  all  this  shall  henceforth  be 
changed. 

Elina. 
How  so? 

Lady  Inger. 

Listen. — I  look  for  a  guest  to-night. 

Elina. 

[Comes  nearer.]     A  guest? 

Lady  Inger. 

A  guest,  who  must  remain  a  stranger  to  all.  None 
must  know  whence  he  comes  or  whither  he  goes. 

Elina. 

[Throws  Iter  self,  with  a  cry  of  joy,  at  her  mooter's  feet , 
and  seizes  her  liands.]  My  mother!  My  mother!  For- 
give me,  if  you  can,  all  the  wrong  I  have  done  you! 


46  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  [act  i 

Lady  Inger. 

What  do  you  mean  ?  Elina,  I  do  not  understand 
you. 

Elina. 

Then  they  were  all  deceived!  You  are  still  true  at 
heart ! 

Lady  Inger. 
Rise,  rise  and  tell  me 

Elina. 
Think  you  I  do  not  know  who  the  stranger  is? 

Lady  Inger. 
You  know?     And  yet ? 

Elina. 

Think  you  the  gates  of  Ostrat  shut  so  close  that  never 
a  whisper  of  the  country's  woe  can  slip  through  them  ? 
Think  you  I  do  not  know  that  the  heir  of  many  a  noble 
line  wanders  outlawed,  without  rest  or  shelter,  while 
Danish  masters  lord  it  in  the  home  of  his  fathers  ? 

Lady  Inger. 
And  what  then  ? 

Elina. 

I  know  well  that  many  a  high-born  knight  is  hunted 
through  the  woods  like  a  hungry  wolf.  No  hearth  has 
he  to  rest  by,  no  bread  to  eat 


act  i]  LADY   INGER  OF   OSTRAT  47 

Lady  Inger. 
[Coldly.]     Enough!     Now  I  understand  you. 

Elina. 

[Continuing.]  And  that  is  why  the  gates  of  Ostrat 
must  stand  open  by  night!  That  is  why  he  must  remain 
a  stranger  to  all,  this  guest  of  whom  none  must  know 
whence  he  comes  or  whither  he  goes!  You  are  setting 
at  naught  the  harsh  decree  that  forbids  you  to  harbour 
or  succour  the  outlaw 

Lady  Inger. 
Enough,  I  say! 

[After  a  sfiort  silence,  adds  with  an  effort: 
You  mistake,  Elina — 'tis  no  outlaw  I  look  for. 

Elina. 
[Rises.]     Then  I  have  understood  you  ill  indeed. 

Lady  Inger. 

Listen  to  me,  my  child;  but  think  as  you  listen;  if 
indeed  you  can  tame  that  wild  spirit  of  yours. 

Elina. 
I  am  tame,  till  you  have  spoken. 

Lady  Inger. 

Attend,  then,  to  what  I  have  to  tell  you. — I  have 
sought,  so  far  as  lay  in  my  power,  to  keep  you  in  igno- 
rance of  all  our  griefs  and  miseries.     What  could  it  avail 


48  LADY  INGER   OF   OSTRAT  [act  i 

to  fill  your  young  heart  with  wrath  and  care  ?  'Tis  not 
women's  weeping  and  wailing  that  can  deliver  us;  we 
need  the  courage  and  strength  of  men. 

Elina. 

Who  has  told  you  that,  when  courage  and  strength 
are  needed,  I  shall  be  found  wanting? 

Lady  Inger. 
Hush,  child; — I  might  take  you  at  your  word. 

Elina. 
How  mean  you,  my  mother? 

Lady  Inger. 

I  might  call  on  you  for  both;  I  might ;  but  let  me 

say  my  say  out  first. 

Know  then  that  the  time  seems  now  to  be  drawing 
nigh,  towards  which  the  Danish  Council  have  been  work- 
ing for  many  a  year — the  time,  I  mean,  for  them  to 
strike  the  last  blow  at  our  rights  and  our  freedom. 
Therefore  must  we  now 

Elina. 
[Eagerly.]     Openly  rebel,  my  mother? 

Lady  Inger. 

No;  we  must  gain  breathing-time.  The  Council  is 
now  assembled  at  Copenhagen,  considering  how  best  to 
go  to  work.  Most  of  them  hold,  'tis  said,  that  there  can 
be  no  end  to  dissensions  till  Norway  and  Denmark  are 
one;  for  should  we  still  possess  our  rights  as  a  free  land 


act  i]  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  49 

when  the  time  comes  to  ehoose  the  next  king,  'tis  most 
like  that  the  feud  will  break  out  openly.  Now  the  Danish 
councillors  would  hinder  this 

Elina. 

Ay,  they  would  hinder  it — !  But  are  we  to  endure 
such  things  ?     Are  we  to  look  on  quietly  while ? 

Lady  Inger. 

No,  we  will  not  endure  it.  But  to  take  up  arms — to 
declare  open  war — what  would  come  of  that,  so  long  as 
we  are  not  united  ?  And  were  we  ever  less  united  in 
this  land  than  we  are  even  now  ? — No,  if  aught  is  to  be 
accomplished,  it  must  be  secretly  and  in  silence.  Even 
as  I  said,  we  must  have  time  to  draw  breath.  In  the 
South,  a  good  part  of  the  nobles  are  for  the  Dane;  but 
here  in  the  North  they  are  still  in  doubt.  Therefore  has 
King  Frederick  sent  hither  one  of  his  most  trusted  coun- 
cillors,  to  assure  himself  with  his  own  eyes  how  we  stand 
affected. 

Elina. 

[In  suspense.]     Well — and  then ? 

Lady  Inger. 
He  is  the  guest  I  look  for  to-night. 

Elina. 
He  comes  hither  ?     And  to-night  ? 

Lady  Inger. 

A  trading  ship  brought  him  to  Trondhiem  yesterday. 
News  has  just  reached  me  of  his  approach;  he  may  be 
here  within  the  hour. 


50  LADY   INGER   OF  OSTRAT  [act  i 

Elina. 

And  you  do  not  bethink  you,  my  mother,  how  'twill 
endanger  your  fame  thus  to  receive  the  Danish  envoy  ? 
Do  not  the  people  already  look  on  you  with  distrustful 
eyes?  How  can  you  hope  that,  when  the  time  comes, 
they  will  let  you  rule  and  guide  them,  if  it  be  known 

that 

Lady  Inger. 

Fear  not.  All  this  I  have  fully  weighed;  but  there  is 
no  danger.  His  errand  in  Norway  is  a  secret;  he  has 
come  unknown  to  Trondhiem,  and  unknown  shall  he  be 
our  guest  at  Ostrat. 

Elina. 
And  the  name  of  this  Danish  lord ? 

Lady  Inger. 

It  sounds  well,  Elina;  Denmark  has  scarce  a  nobler 
name. 

Elina. 

But  what  then  do  you  purpose  ?  I  cannot  yet  grasp 
your  meaning. 

Lady  Inger. 

You  will  soon  understand. — Since  we  cannot  trample 
on  the  serpent,  we  must  bind  it. 

Elina. 
Take  heed  that  it  burst  not  your  bonds. 

Lady  Inger. 
It  rests  with  you  to  tighten  them  as  you  will. 


act  i]  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  51 

Elina. 
With  me  ? 

Lady  Inger. 

I  have  long  seen  that  Ostrat  is  as  a  cage  to  you.  The 
young  falcon  chafes  behind  the  iron  bars. 

Elina. 

My  wings  are  clipped.  Even  if  you  set  me  free — 
'twould  avail  me  little. 

Lady  Inger. 
Your  wings  are  not  clipped,  save  by  your  own  will. 

Elina. 

Will  ?  My  will  is  in  your  hands.  Be  what  you  once 
were,  and  I  too 

Lady  Inger. 

Enough,  enough.  Hear  me  further. — It  would  scarce 
break  your  heart  to  leave  Ostrat  ? 

Elina. 
Maybe  not,  my  mother! 

Lady  Inger. 

You  told  me  once,  that  you  lived  your  happiest  life  in 
your  tales  and  histories.  What  if  that  life  were  to  be 
yours  once  more? 

Elina. 
What  mean  you  ? 


52  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  [act  i 

Lady  Inger. 

Elina — if  a  mighty  noble  were  to  come  and  lead  you  to 
his  castle,  where  you  should  find  damsels  and  squires, 
silken  robes  and  lofty  halls  awaiting  you  ? 

Elina. 
A  noble,  you  say? 

Lady  Inger. 
A  noble. 

Elina. 

[More  softly.]  And  the  Danish  envoy  comes  hither 
to-night  ? 

Lady  Inger. 
To-night. 

Elina. 
If  so  be,  then  I  fear  to  read  the  meaning  of  your  words. 

Lady  Inger. 

There  is  naught  to  fear  if  you  misread  them  not.  It 
is  far  from  my  thought  to  put  force  upon  you.  You  shall 
choose  for  yourself  in  this  matter,  and  follow  your  own 
rede. 

Elina. 

[Comes  a  step  nearer.]  Know  you  the  tale  of  the 
mother  who  drove  across  the  hills  by  night,  with  her 
little  children  in  the  sledge  ?  The  wolves  were  on  her 
track;  'twas  life  or  death  with  her; — and  one  by  one  she 
cast  out  her  little  ones,  to  win  time  and  save  herself. 


act  i]  LADY   INGER   OF   6STRAT  53 

Lady  Inger. 

Nursery  tales!  A  mother  would  tear  the  heart  from 
her  breast  before  she  would  cast  her  child  to  the  wolves! 

Elina. 

Were  I  not  my  mother's  daughter,  I  would  say  you 
were  right.  But  you  are  like  that  mother;  one  by  one 
have  you  cast  out  your  daughters  to  the  wolves.  The 
eldest  went  first.  Five  years  ago  Merete1  went  forth 
from  Ostrat;  now  she  dwells  in  Bergen,  and  is  Vinzents 
Lunge's2  wife.  But  think  you  she  is  happy  as  the 
Danish  noble's  lady?  Vinzents  Lunge  is  mighty,  well- 
nigh  as  a  king;  Merete  has  damsels  and  squires,  silken 
robes  and  lofty  halls;  but  the  day  has  no  sunshine  for 
her,  and  the  night  no  rest;  for  she  has  never  loved  him. 
He  came  hither  and  he  wooed  her,  for  she  was  the  great- 
est heiress  in  Norway,  and  'twas  then  needful  for  him 
to  gain  a  footing  in  the  land.  I  know  it;  I  know  it  well! 
Merete  bowed  to  your  will;  she  went  with  the  stranger 
lord. — But  what  has  it  cost  her?  More  tears  than  a 
mother  should  wish  to  answer  for  at  the  day  of  reck- 
oning! 

Lady  Inger. 

I  know  my  reckoning,  and  I  fear  it  not. 

Elina. 

Your  reckoning  ends  not  here.  Where  is  Lucia,  your 
second  child  ? 

Lady  Inger. 

Ask  God,  who  took  her. 

1  Pronounce  Mayrayte.  2  Pronounce  LoongM. 


J 


54  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  [act  i 

Elina. 

'Tis  you  I  ask;  'tis  you  must  answer  for  her  young  life. 
She  was  glad  as  a  bird  in  spring  when  she  sailed  from 
Ostrat  to  be  Merete's  guest.  A  year  passed,  and  she 
stood  in  this  room  once  more;  but  her  cheeks  were  white, 
and  death  had  gnawed  deep  into  her  breast.  Ah,  I 
startle  you,  my  mother!  You  thought  the  ugly  secret 
was  buried  with  her; — but  she  told  me  all.  A  courtly 
knight  had  won  her  heart.  He  would  have  wedded  her. 
You  knew  that  her  honour  was  at  stake;  yet  your  will 
never  bent — and  your  child  had  to  die.  You  see,  I  know 
all! 

Lady  Inger. 
All  ?     Then  she  told  you  his  name  ? 

Elina. 

His  name?  No;  his  name  she  did  not  tell  me.  She 
shrank  from  his  name  as  though  it  stung  her; — she  never 
uttered  it. 

Lady  Inger. 
[Relieved,  to  Jierself.]     Ah,  then  you  do  not  know  all 


Elina — 'tis  true  that  the  whole  of  this  matter  was  well 
known  to  me.  But  there  is  one  thing  it  seems  you  have 
overlooked.  The  lord  whom  Lucia  met  in  Bergen  was 
a  Dane 


Elina. 
That,  too,  I  know. 

Lady  Inger. 

And  his  love  was  a  lie.     With  guile  and  soft  speeches 
he  had  ensnared  her. 


act  i]  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  55 

Elina. 

I  know  it;  but  nevertheless  she  loved  him;  and  had 
you  had  a  mother's  heart,  your  daughter's  honour  had 
been  more  to  you  than  all. 

Lady  Inger. 

Not  more  than  her  happiness.  Think  you  that,  with 
Merete's  lot  before  my  eyes,  I  could  sacrifice  my  second 
child  to  a  man  that  loved  her  not  ? 

Elina. 

Cunning  words  may  beguile  many,  but  they  beguile 
not  me 

Think  not  I  know  nothing  of  all  that  is  passing  in 
our  land  ?  I  understand  your  counsels  but  too  well.  I 
know  that  in  you  the  Danish  lords  have  no  true  friend. 
It  may  be  that  you  hate  them;  but  you  fear  them  too. 
When  you  gave  Merete  to  Vinzents  Lunge,  the  Danes 
held  the  mastery  on  all  sides  throughout  our  land.  Three 
years  later,  when  you  forbade  Lucia  to  wed  the  man  to 
whom,  though  he  had  deceived  her,  she  had  given  her 
life — things  were  far  different  then.  The  King's  Danish 
governors  had  shamefully  misused  the  common  people, 
and  you  deemed  it  not  wise  to  link  yourself  still  more 
closely  to  the  foreign  tyrants. 

And  what  have  you  done  to  avenge  her  that  was  sent 
so  young  to  her  grave  ?  You  have  done  nothing.  Well 
then,  I  will  act  in  your  stead;  I  will  avenge  all  the  shame 
they  have  brought  upon  our  people  and  our  house! 

Lady  Inger. 
You  ?     What  will  you  do  ? 


56  LADY  INGER   OF   OSTRAT  [act  i 

Elina. 

I  will  go  my  way,  even  as  you  go.  yours.  What  I 
shall  do  I  myself  know  not;  but  I  feel  within  me  the 
strength  to  dare  all  for  our  righteous   cause. 

Lady  Inger. 

Then  have  you  a  hard  fight  before  you.  I  once 
promised  as  you  do  now — and  my  hair  has  grown  grey 
under  the  burden  of  that  promise. 

Elina. 

Good-night!  Your  guest  will  soon  be  here,  and  at 
that  meeting  I  should  be  one  too  many. 

It  may  be  there  is  yet  time  for  you— — ;  well,  God 
strengthen  and  guide  you  on  your  path!  Forget  not 
that  the  eyes  of  many  thousands  are  fixed  on  you. 
Think  on  Merete,  weeping  late  and  early  over  her  wasted 
life.     Think  on  Lucia,  sleeping  in  her  black  coffin. 

And  one  thing  more.  Forget  not  that  in  the  game 
you  play  this  night,  your  stake  is  your  last  child. 

[Goes  out  to  the  left. 

Lady  Inger. 

[Looks  after  her  awhile.]     My  last  child  ?     You  know 

not  how  true  was  that  word But  the  stake  is  not 

my  child  only.  God  help  me,  I  am  playing  to-night  for 
the  whole  of  Norway's  land. 

Ah — is  not  that  some  one  riding  through  the  gateway  ? 

[Listens  at  the  window. 

No;  not  yet.  Only  the  wind;  it  blows  cold  as  the 
grave 

Has  God  a  right  to  do  this  ? — To  make  me  a  woman 
— and  then  to  lay  on  my  shoulders  a  man's  work  ? 


act  i]  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  57 

For  I  have  the  welfare  of  the  country  in  my  hands. 
It  i  s  in  my  power  to  make  them  rise  as  one  man.  They 
look  to  m  e  for  the  signal ;  and  if  I  give  it  not  now — 
it  may  never  be  given. 

To  delay  ?     To  sacrifice  the  many  for  the  sake  of  one  ? 

Were  it  not  better  if  I  could ?     No;  no,  no— I  will 

not!     I  cannot! 

[Steals  a  glance  towards  the  Banquet  Hall,  but  turns 
away  again  as  if  in  dread,  and  whispers: 
I  can  see  them  in  there  now.     Pale  spectres — dead 
ancestors— fallen  kinsfolk.— Ah,  those  eyes  that  pierce 
me  from  every  corner! 

[Makes  a  gesture  of  repulsion,  and  cries: 
Sten  Sture!     Knut  Alfson!     Olaf  Skaktavl!     Back- 
back  ! — I  cannot  do  this ! 

[A  Stranger,  strongly  built,  and  with  grizzled  hair 
and  beard,  has  entered  from  the  Banquet  Hall.  He 
is  dressed  in  a  torn  lambskin  tunic;  his  weapons 
are  rusty. 

The  Stranger. 

[Stops  in  tJie  doorway,  and  says  in  a  low  voice.]  Hail 
to  you,  Inger  Gyldenlove! 

Lady  Inger. 

[Turns  with  a  scream.]  Ah,  Christ  in  heaven  save 
me! 

[Falls  back  into  a  chair.  The  Stranger  stands  gaz- 
ing at  her,  motionless,  leaning  on  his  sword. 


ACT  SECOND 

The  room  at  Ostrat,  as  in  the  first  Act. 

Lady  Inger  Gyldenlove  is  seated  at  the  table  on  the 
right,  by  the  window.  Olaf  Skaktavl  is  standing 
a  little  way  from  her.  Their  faces  show  that  they 
have  been  engaged  in  a  heated  discussion. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

For  the  last  time,  Inger  Gyldenlove — you  are  not  to 
be  moved  from  your  purpose  ? 

Lady  Inger. 

I  can  do  nought  else.  And  my  counsel  to  you  is:  do 
as  I  do.  If  it  be  Heaven's  will  that  Norway  perish  utter- 
ly, perish  it  must,  for  all  we  may  do  to  save  it. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

And  think  you  I  can  content  my  heart  with  that  be- 
lief ?  Shall  I  sit  and  look  idly  on,  now  that  the  hour  is 
come  ?  Do  you  forget  the  reckoning  I  have  against 
them  ?  They  have  robbed  me  of  my  lands,  and  par- 
celled them  out  among  themselves.  My  son,  my  only 
child,  the  last  of  my  race,  they  have  slaughtered  like  a 
dog.  Myself  they  have  outlawed  and  hunted  through 
forest  and  fell  these  twenty  years. — Once  and  again 
have  folk  whispered  of  my  death;  but  this  I  believe, 

56 


act  ii]         LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  59 

that  they  shall  not  lay  me  beneath  the  sod  before  I  have 
seen  my  vengeance. 

Lady  Inger. 

Then  is  there  a  long  life  before  you.  What  have  you 
in  mind  to  do? 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

Do?  How  should  I  know  what  I  will  do?  It  has 
never  been  my  part  to  plot  and  plan.  That  is  where 
you  must  help  me.  You  have  the  wit  for  that.  I  have 
but  my  sword  and  my  two  arms. 

Lady  Inger. 

Your  sword  is  rusted,  Olaf  Skaktavl!  All  the  swords 
in  Norway  are  rusted. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

That  is  doubtless  why  some  folk  fight  only  with  their 
tongues. — Inger  Gyldenlove — great  is  the  change  in  you. 
Time  was  when  the  heart  of  a  man  beat  in  your  breast. 

Lady  Inger. 
Put  me  not  in  mind  of  what  was. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

'Tis  for  that  very  purpose  I  am  here.  You  shall 
hear  me,  even  if 

Lady  Inger. 

Be  it  so  then;  but  be  brief;  for — I  must  say  it — this  is 
no  place  of  safety  for  you. 


60  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT         [act  ii 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

Ostrat  is  no  place  of  safety  for  an  outlaw  ?  That  I 
have  long  known.  But  you  forget  that  an  outlaw  is 
unsafe  wheresoever  he  may  wander. 

Lady  Inger. 
Speak  then;  I  will  not  hinder  you. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

'Tis  nigh  on  thirty  years  now  since  first  I  saw  you.  It 
was  at  Akershus1  in  the  house  of  Knut  Alfson  and  his 
wife.  You  were  little  more  than  a  child  then;  yet  were 
you  bold  as  the  soaring  falcon,  and  wild  and  headstrong 
too  at  times.  Many  were  the  wooers  around  you.  I 
too  held  you  dear— dear  as  no  woman  before  or  since. 
But  you  cared  for  nothing,  thought  of  nothing,  save  your 
country's  evil  case  and  its  great  need. 

Lady  Inger. 

I  counted  but  fifteen  summers  then — remember  that! 
And  was  it  not  as  though  a  frenzy  had  seized  us  all  in 
those  days  ? 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

Call  it  what  you  will;  but  one  thing  I  know — even 
the  old  and  sober  men  among  us  thought  it  written  in 
the  counsels  of  the  Lord  on  high  that  you  were  she 
who  should  break  our  thraldom  and  win  us  all  our 
rights  again.  And  more:  you  yourself  then  thought  as 
we  did. 

1  Pronounce  Ahkers-hoos. 


act  ii]        LADY  INGER  OF  OSTRAT  61 

Lady  Inger. 

'Twas  a  sinful  thought,  Olaf  Skaktavl.  'Twas  my 
proud  heart,  and  not  the  Lord's  call,  that  spoke  in  me. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

You  could  have  been  the  chosen  one  had  you  but 
willed  it.  You  came  of  the  noblest  blood  in  Norway; 
power  and  riches  were  soon  to  be  yours;  and  you  had  an 
ear  for  the  cries  of  anguish — then! 

Do  you  remember  that  afternoon  when  Henrik  Krum- 
medike  and  the  Danish  fleet  anchored  off  Akershus  ? 
The  captains  of  the  fleet  offered  terms  of  peace,  and, 
trusting  to  the  safe-conduct,  Knut  Alfson  rowed  on 
board.  Three  hours  later,  we  bore  him  through  the 
castle  gate 

Lady  Inger. 

A  corpse;  a  corpse! 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

The  best  heart  in  Norway  burst,  when  Krummedike's 
hirelings  struck  him  down.  Methinks  I  still  can  see 
the  long  procession  that  passed  into  the  Banquet  Hall, 
heavily,  two  by  two.  There  he  lay  on  his  bier,  white 
as  a  spring  cloud,  with  the  axe-cleft  in  his  brow.  I  may 
safely  say  that  the  boldest  men  in  Norway  were  gathered 
there  that  night.  Lady  Margrete  stood  by  her  dead 
husband's  head,  and  we  swore  as  one  man  to  venture 
lands  and  life  to  avenge  this  last  misdeed  and  all  that 
had  gone  before. — Inger  Gyldenlove, — who  was  it  that 
burst  through  the  circle  of  men  ?     A  maiden — almost  a 


62  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT         [act  ii 

child — with  fire  in  her  eyes  and  her  voice  half  choked 
with  tears. — What  was  it  she  swore  ?  Shall  I  repeat 
your  words  ? 

Lady  Inger. 

I  swore  what  the  rest  of  you  swore;  neither  more 
nor  less. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

You  remember  your  oath — and  yet  you  have  for- 
gotten it. 

Lady  Inger. 

And  how  did  the  others  keep  their  promise  ?  I  speak 
not  of  you,  Olaf  Skaktavl,  but  of  your  friends,  all  Nor- 
way's nobles  ?  Not  one  of  them,  in  all  these  years,  has 
had  the. courage  to  be  a  man;  yet  they  lay  it  to  my  charge 
that  I  am  a  woman. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

I  know  what  you  would  say.  Why  have  they  bent 
to  the  yoke,  and  not  defied  the  tyrants  to  the  last  ?  'Tis 
but  too  true;  there  is  base  metal  enough  in  our  noble 
houses  nowadays.  But  had  they  held  together — who 
knows  what  then  might  have  been  ?  And  you  could 
have  held  them  together,  for  before  you  all  had  bowed. 

Lady  Inger. 

My  answer  were  easy  enough,  but  'twould  scarce  con- 
tent you.  So  let  us  leave  speaking  of  what  cannot  be 
changed.  Tell  me  rather  what  has  brought  you  to 
Ostrat.  Do  you  need  harbour?  Well,  I  will  try  to 
hide  you.  If  you  would  have  aught  else,  speak  out;  you 
shall  find  me  ready 


act  ii]         LADY   INGER  OP   OSTRAT  63 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

For  twenty  years  have  I  been  homeless.  In  the  moun- 
tains of  Ja»mteland  my  hair  has  grown  grey.  My  dwell- 
ing has  been  with  wolves  and  bears. — You  see,  Lady 
Inger — I  need  you  not;  but  both  nobles  and  people  stand 
in  sore  need  of  you. 

Lady  Inger. 
The  old  burden. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

Ay,  it  sounds  but  ill  in  your  ears,  I  know;  yet  hear 
it  you  must,  for  all  that.  In  brief,  then:  I  come  from 
Sweden:  troubles  are  brewing:  the  Dales  are  ready  to 
rise. 

Lady  Inger. 
I  know  it. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
Peter  Kanzler1  is  with  us — secretly,  you  understand. 

Lady  Inger. 
[Starting.]     Peter  Kanzler? 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
'Tis  he  that  has  sent  me  to  Ostrat. 

Lady  Inger. 
[Rises.]     Peter  Kanzler,  say  you  ? 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

He  himself; — but  mayhap  you  no  longer  know  him  ? 
1  That  is,  Peter  the  Chancellor. 


64  LADY  INGER   OF   OSTRAT         [act  n 

Lady  Inger. 

[Half  to  herself.]  Only  too  well ! — But  tell  me,  I  pray 
you, — what  message  do  you  bring? 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

When  the  rumour  of  the  rising  reached  the  border 
mountains,  where  I  then  was,  I  set  off  at  once  into  Swe- 
den. 'Twas  not  hard  to  guess  that  Peter  Kanzler  had 
a  finger  in  the  game.  I  sought  him  out  and  offered  to 
stand  by  him; — he  knew  me  of  old,  as  you  know,  and 
knew  that  he  could  trust  me;  so  he  has  sent  me  hither. 

Lady  Inger. 
[Impatiently.]     Yes,  yes, — he  sent  you  hither  to ? 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

[With  secrecy.]  Lady  Inger — a  stranger  comes  to 
Ostrat  to-night. 

Lady  Inger.  , 

[Surprised.]     What?     Know  you  that ? 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

Assuredly  I  know  it.  I  know  all.  'Twas  to  meet 
him  that  Peter  Kanzler  sent  me  hither. 

Lady  Inger. 

To  meet  him  ?  Impossible,  Olaf  Skaktavl, — impos- 
sible. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

'Tis  as  I  tell  you.  If  he  be  not  already  come,  he  will 
soon 


act  ii]         LADY   INGER   OF  OSTRAT  65 

Lady  Tnger. 
Doubtless,  doubtless;  but 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
Then  you  knew  of  his  coming  ? 

Lady  Inger. 

Ay,  surely.     He  sent  me  a  message.     'Twas  therefore 
they  opened  to  you  as  soon  as  you  knocked. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

[Listens.]  Hush!— some  one  is  riding  along  the  road. 
[Goes  to  the  window.]     They  are  opening  the  gate. 

Lady  Inger. 

[Looks  out.]  It  is  a  knight  and  his  attendant.  They 
are  dismounting  in  the  courtyard. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
'Tis  he,  then.     His  name? 

Lady  Inger. 
You  know  not  his  name? 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

Peter  Kanzler  refused  to  tell  it  me.  He  would  say  no 
more  than  that  I  should  find  him  at  Ostrat  the  third 
evening  after  Martinmas 

Lady  Inger. 
Ay;  even  to-night. 


66  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT         [act  ii 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

He  was  to  bring  letters  with  him;  and  from  them,  and 
from  you,  I  was  to  learn  who  he  is. 

Lady  Inger. 

Then  let  me  lead  you  to  your  chamber.  You  have 
need  of  rest  and  refreshment.  You  shall  soon  have 
speech  with  the  stranger. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

Well,  be  it  as  you  will.  [Both  go  out  to  the  left. 

[After  a  slwrt  pause,  Finn  enters  cautiously  by  the 
door  on  the  riglit,  looks  round  tlte  room,  and  peeps 
into  the  Banquet  Hall;  lie  tlien  goes  back  to  the 
door,  and  makes  a  sign  to  some  one  outside.  Im- 
mediately after,  enter  Councillor  Nils  Lykke 
and  tlie  Swedish  Commander,  Jens  Bielke. 

Nils  Lykke. 
[Softly.]     No  one  ? 

Finn. 
[In  the  same  tone.]     No  one,  master! 

Nils  Lykke. 
And  we  may  depend  on  you  in  all  things? 

Finn. 

The  commandant  in  Trondhiem  has  ever  given  me 
a  name  for  trustiness. 


act  11]         LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  67 

Nils  Lykke. 

'Tis  well;  he  has  said  as  much  to  me.  First  of  all, 
then— has  there  come  any  stranger  to  Ostrat  to-night, 
before  us  ? 

Finn. 

Ay;  a  stranger  came  an  hour  since. 
Nils  Lykke. 

[Softly,  to  Jens  Bielke.]  He  is  here.  [Turns  again 
to  Finn.]  Would  you  know  him  again?  Have  you 
seen  him  ? 

Finn. 

Nay,  none  has  seen  him,  that  I  know,  but  the  gate- 
keeper. He  was  brought  at  once  to  Lady  Inger,  and 
she-; 

Nils  Lykke. 
Well  ?     What  of  her  ?     He  is  not  gone  again  already  ? 

Finn. 

No;  but  it  seems  she  holds  him  hidden  in  one  of  her 
own  rooms;  for 

Nils  Lykke. 
It  is  well. 

Jens  Bielke. 

[Whispers.]  Then  the  first  thing  is  to  put  a  guard  on 
the  gate;  so  are  we  sure  of  him. 


68  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT         [act  ii 

Nils  Lykke. 

[With  a  smile.]  H'm!  [To  Finn.]  Tell  me — is  there 
any  way  of  leaving  the  castle,  save  by  the  gate  ?  Gape 
not  at  me  so !  I  mean — can  one  escape  from  Ostrat  un- 
seen, though  the  castle  gate  be  barred  ? 

Finn. 

Nay,  that  I  know  not.  'Tis  true  they  talk  of  secret 
ways  in  the  vaults  beneath;  but  no  one  knows  them  save 
Lady  Inger — and  mayhap  Mistress  Elina. 

Jens  Bielke. 
The  devil! 

Nils  Lykke. 

It  is  well.     You  may  go. 

Finn. 

Should  you  need  me  in  aught  again,  you  have  but  to 
open  the  second  door  on  the  right  in  the  Banquet  Hall, 
and  I  shall  presently  be  at  hand. 

Nils  Lykke. 
Good.        [Points  to  the  entrance-door.     Finn  goes  out. 

Jens  Bielke. 

Now,  by  my  soul,  dear  friend  and  brother — this  cam- 
paign is  like  to  end  but  scurvily  for  both  of  us. 

Nils  Lykke. 
[With  a  smile.]     Oh — not  for  me,  I  hope. 


act  ii]         LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  69 

Jens  Bielke. 

Say  you  so  ?  First  of  all,  there  is  little  honour  to  be 
won  in  hunting  an  overgrown  whelp  like  this  Nils  Sture. 
Are  we  to  think  him  mad  or  in  his  sober  senses  after  the 
pranks  he  has  played  ?  First  he  breeds  bad  blood  among 
the  peasants;  promises  them  help  and  all  their  hearts  can 
desire; — aod  then,  when  it  comes  to  the  pinch,  off  he  runs 
to  hide  behind  a  petticoat! 

Moreover,  to  say  truth,  I  repent  that  I  followed  your 
counsel  and  went  not  my  own  way. 

Nils  Lykke. 

[To  himself.]  Your  repentance  comes  somewhat  late, 
my  brother! 

Jens  Bielke. 

For,  let  me  tell  you,  I  have  never  loved  digging  at  a 
badger's  earth.  I  looked  for  quite  other  sport.  Here 
have  I  ridden  all  the  way  from  Jsemteland  with  my 
horsemen,  and  have  got  me  a  warrant  from  the  Trond- 
hiem  commandant  to  search  for  the  rebel  wheresoever  I 
please.     All  his  tracks  point  towards  Ostrat 

Nils  Lykke. 
He  is  here!     He  is  here,  I  tell  you! 

Jens  Bielke. 

Were  it  not  liker,  in  that  case,  that  we  had  found  the 
gate  barred  and  well  guarded?  Would  that  we  had; 
then  could  I  have  found  use  for  my  men-at-arms 


70  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT        [act  ii 

Nils  Lykke. 

But  instead,  the  gate  is  very  courteously  thrown  open 
to  us.  Mark  now — if  Inger  Gyldenlove's  fame  belie  her 
not,  I  warrant  she  will  not  let  her  guests  lack  for  either 
meat  or  drink. 

Jens  Bielke. 

Ay,  to  turn  aside  from  our  errand!  And  what  wild 
whim  was  that  of  yours  to  have  me  leave  my  horsemen 
half  a  league  from  the  castle !     Had  we  come  in  force 

Nils  Lykke. 

She  had  made  us  none  the  less  welcome  for  that. 
But  mark  well  that  then  our  coming  had  made  a  stir. 
The  peasants  round  about  had  held  it  for  an  outrage 
against  Lady  Inger;  she  had  risen  high  in  their  favour 
once  more — and  with  that,  look  you,  we  were  ill  served. 

Jens  Bielke. 

Maybe  so.  But  what  am  I  to  do  now  ?  Count 
Slure  is  in  Ostrat,  you  say.  Ay,  but  how  does  that  profit 
me  ?  Be  sure  Lady  Inger  Gyldenlove  has  as  many  hid- 
ing-places as  the  fox,  and  more  than  one  outlet  to  them. 
You  and  I,  alone,  may  go  snuffing  about  here  as  long  as 
we  please.     I  would  the  devil  had  the  whole  affair! 

Nils  Lykke. 

Well,  then,  my  friend — if  you  like  not  the  turn  your 
errand  has  taken,  you  have  but  to  leave  the  field  to  me. 

Jens  Bielke. 
To  you  ?     What  will  you  do  ? 


act  ii]         LADY   INGER  OF   OSTRAT  71 

Nils  Lykke. 

Caution  and  cunning  may  in  this  matter  prove  of 
more  avail  than  force  of  arms. — And  to  say  truth,  Cap- 
tain Jens  Bielke— something  of  the  sort  has  been  in  my 
mind  ever  since  we  met  in  Trondhiem  yesterday. 

Jens  Bielke. 

Was  that  why  you  persuaded  me  to  leave  the  men-at- 
arms  ? 

Nils  Lykke. 

Both  your  purpose  at  Ostrat  and  mine  could  best  be 
served  without  them ;  and  so 

Jens  Bielke. 

The  foul  fiend  seize  you— I  had  almost  said!  And 
me  to  boot!  Might  I  not  have  known  that  there  is  guile 
in  all  your  dealings? 

Nils  Lykke. 

Be  sure  I  shall  need  all  my  guile  here,  if  I  am  to  face 
my  foe  with  even  weapons.  And  let  me  tell  you,  'tis 
of  the  utmost  moment  to  me  that  I  acquit  me  of  my 
mission  secretly  and  well.  You  must  know  that  when  I 
set  forth  I  was  scarce  in  favour  with  my  lord  the  King. 
He  held  me  in  suspicion;  though  I  dare  swear  I  have 
served  him  as  well  as  any  man  could,  in  more  than  one 
ticklish  charge. 

Jens  Bielke. 

That  you  may  safely  boast.  God  and  all  men  know 
you  for  the  craftiest  devil  in  all  the  three  kingdoms. 


n  LADY  INGER  OF  OSTK A 1         [act  n 

Nils  Lykke. 

I  thank  you !  Though,  after  all,  His  not  much  to  say. 
But  this  present  errand  I  count  as  indeed  a  crowning 
test  of  my  powers;  for  here  I  have  to  outwit  a  woman 

Jens  Bielke. 

Ha -ha-ha!  In  that  art  you  have  long  since  given 
crowning  proofs  of  your  skill,  dear  brother.  Think  you 
we  in  Sweden  know  not  the  song — 

Fair  maidens  a-many  they  sigh  and  they  pine: 
"Ah  God,  that  Nils  Lykke  were  mine,  mine,  mine! " 

Nils  Lykke . 

Alas,  'tis  women  of  twenty  and  thereabouts  that  ditty 
speaks  of.  Lady  Inger  Gyldenlove  is  nigh  on  fifty,  and 
wily  to  boot  beyond  all  women.  Twill  be  no  light  mat- 
ter to  overmatch  her.  But  it  must  be  done — at  any 
cost.  Should  I  contrive  to  win  certain  advantages  over 
her  that  the  King  has  long  desired,  I  can  reckon  on  the 
embassy  to  France  next  spring.  You  know  that  I  spent 
three  years  at  the  University  in  Paris  ?  My  whole  soul 
is  set  on  coming  thither  again,  most  of  all  if  I  can  appear 
in  lofty  place,  a  king's  ambassador. — Well,  then — is  it 
agreed— do  you  leave  Lady  Inger  to  me  ?  Remember — 
when  you  were  last  at  Court  in  Copenhagen,  I  made  way 
for  you  with  more  than  one  fair  lady 

Jens  Bielke. 

Nay,  truly  now — that  generosity  cost  you  little:  one 
and  all  of  them  were  at  your  beck  and  call.     But  let  that 


act  ii]         LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  73 

pass;  now  that  I  have  begun  amiss  in  this  matter,  I  had 
as  lief  that  you  should  take  it  on  your  shoulders.  Yet 
one  thing  you  must  promise— if  the  young  Count  Sture 
be  in  Ostrat,  you  will  deliver  him  into  my  hands,  dead 
or  alive! 

Nils  Lykke. 

You  shall  have  him  all  alive.  I,  at  any  rate,  mean 
not  to  kill  him.  But  now  you  must  ride  back  and  join 
your  people.  Keep  guard  on  the.  road.  Should  I  mark 
aught  that  mislikes  me,  you  shall  know  it  forthwith. 

Jens  Bielke. 
Good,  good.     But  how  am  I  to  get  out ? 

Nils  Lykke. 

The  fellow  that  brought  us  in  will  show  the  way.  But 
go  quietly 

Jens  Bielke. 
Of  course,  of  course.     Well— good  fortune  to  you! 

Nils  Lykke. 

Fortune  has  never  failed  me  in  a  war  with  women. 
Haste  you  now!  [Jens  Bielke  goes  out  to  the  right. 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Stands  still  for  awhile;  then  walks  about  the  room, 
looking  round  him;  tlien  he  says  softly:]  At  last,  then,  I 
am  at  Ostrat— the  ancient  hall  whereof  a  child,  two 
years  ago,  told  me  so  much. 


74  LADY  INGER   OF   OSTRAT         [act  ii 

Lucia.     Ay,  two  years  ago  she  was  still  a  child.     And 
now — now    she    is    dead.     [Hums    with    a    half -smile.] 

"Blossoms  plucked  are  blossoms  withered " 

[Looks  round  him  again. 

Ostrat.     'Tis  as  though  I  had  seen  it  all  before;  as 

though  I  were  at  home  here.— In  there  is  the  Banquet 

Hall.     And  underneath  is — the  grave-vault.     It  must  be 

there  that  Lucia  lies. 

[In  a  lower  voice,  half -seriously,  half  with  forced 
gaiety. 
Were  I  timorous,  I  might  well  find  myself  fancying 
that  when  I  set  foot  within  Ostrat  gate  she  turned  about 
in  her  coffin;  as  I  crossed  the  courtyard  she  lifted  the 
lid;  and  when  I  named  her  name  but  now,  'twas  as 
though  a  voice  summoned  her  forth  from  the  grave- 
vault. — Maybe  she  is  even  now  groping  her  way  up  the 
stairs.  The  face-cloth  blinds  her,  but  she  gropes  on  and 
on  in  spite  of  it. 

Now  she  has  reached  the  Banquet  Hall!     She  stands 
watching  me  from  behind  the  door! 

[Turns  his  head  backwards  over  one  shoulder,  nods, 

and  says  aloud: 

Come   nearer,    Lucia!     Talk   to   me   a   little!     Your 

mother  keeps  me  waiting.     'Tis  tedious  waiting— and 

you   have   helped   me  to   while  away  many  a  tedious 

hour 

[Passes  his  hand  over  his  forehead,  and  takes  one  or 
two  turns  up  and  down. 
Ah,  there! — Right,  right;  there  is  the  deep  curtained 
window.  'Tis  there  that  Inger  Gyldenlove  is  wont  to 
stand  gazing  out  over  the  road,  as  though  looking  for 
one  that  never  comes.  In  there— [looks  towards  the  door 
on  the  left] — somewhere  in  there  is  Sister  Elina's  cham- 
ber.    Elina  ?     Ay,  Elina  is  her  name. 


act  ii]         LADY  INGER   OF   OSTRAT  75 

Can  it  be  that  she  is  so  rare  a  being— so  wise  and  so 
brave  as  Lucia  fancied  her  ?  Fair,  too,  they  say.  But 
for  a  wedded  wife—?     I  should  not  have  written  so 

plainly. 

[Lost  in  thought,  he  is  on  the  point  of  sitting  down  by 

the  table,  but  stands  up  again. 

How  will   Lady  Inger  receive  me? — She  will  scarce 

burn  the  castle  over  our  heads,  or  slip  me  through  a 

trap-door.     A  stab  from  behind—?     No,  not  that  way 

either [Listens  towards  the  hall. 

Aha! 

[Lady  Inger  Gyldenlove  enters  from  the  hall. 

Lady  Inger. 
[Coldly.]     My  greeting  to  you,  Sir  Councillor 


Nils  Lykke. 

■ 

[Bows  deeply.]     Ah — the  Lady  of  Ostrat! 

Lady  Inger. 

and  my  thanks  that  you  have  forewarned  me  of 

your  visit. 

Nils  Lykke. 

I  could  do  no  less.  I  had  reason  to  think  that  my 
coming  might  surprise  you 

Lady  Inger. 

Truly,  Sir  Councillor,  therein  you  judged  aright. 
Nils  Lykke  was  indeed  the  last  guest  I  looked  to  see 
at  Ostrat. 


76  LADY   INGER   OF  OSTRAT         [act  ii 

Nils  Lykke. 

And  still  less,  mayhap,  did  you  think  to  see  him  come 
as  a  friend  ? 

Lady  Inger. 

As  a  friend  ?  You  add  mockery  to  all  the  shame  and 
sorrow  you  have  heaped  upon  my  house  ?  After  bring- 
ing my  child  to  the  grave,  you  still  dare 

Nils  Lykke. 

With  your  leave,  Lady  Inger  Gyldenlove — on  that 
matter  we  should  scarce  agree;  for  you  count, as  nothing 
what  I  lost  by  that  same  unhappy  chance.  I  purposed 
nought  but  in  honour.  I  was  tired  of  my  unbridled  life; 
my  thirtieth  year  was  already  past;  I  longed  to  mate  me 
with  a  good  and  gentle  wife.  Add  to  all  this  the  hope 
of  becoming   your   son-in-law 

Lady  Inger. 

Beware,  Sir  Councillor!  I  have  done  all  in  my  power 
to  hide  my  child's  unhappy  fate.  But  because  it  is  out 
of  sight,  think  not  it  is  out  of  mind.  There  may  yet 
come  a  time 

Nils  Lykke. 

You  threaten  me,  Lady  Inger?  I  have  offered  you 
my  hand  in  amity;  you  refuse  to  take  it.  Henceforth, 
then,  it  is  to  be  open  war  between  us? 

Lady  Inger. 
I  knew  not  there  had  ever  been  aught  else? 


act  ii]         LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  77 

Nils  Lykke. 

Not  on  your  side,  mayhap.  /  have  never  been 
your  enemy, — though,  as  a  subject  of  the  King  of  Den- 
mark, I  lacked  not  good  cause. 

Lady  Inger. 

I  understand  you.  I  have  not  been  pliant  enough. 
It  has  not  proved  so  easy  as  some  of  you  hoped  to  lure 
me  over  into  your  camp.— Yet  methinks  you  have  nought 
to  complain  of.  My  daughter  Merete's  husband  is  your 
countryman— further  I  cannot  go.  My  position  is  no 
easy  one,  Nils  Lykke! 

Nils  Lykke. 

That  I  can  well  believe.  Both  nobles  and  people 
here  in  Norway  think  they  have  an  ancient  claim  on 
you— a  claim,  'tis  said,  you  have  but  half  fulfilled. 

Lady  Inger. 

Your  pardon,  Sir  Councillor,— I  account  for  my  do- 
ings to  none  but  God  and  myself.  If  it  please  you,  then, 
let  me  understand  what  brings  you  hither. 

Nils  Lykke. 

Gladly,  Lady  Inger!  The  purpose  of  my  mission  to 
this  country  can  scarce  be  unknown  to  you ? 

Lady  Inger. 

I  know  the  mission  that  report  assigns  you.  Our 
King  would  fain  know  how  the  Norwegian  nobles  stand 
affected  towards  him. 


] 


78  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT         [act  ii 

Nils  Lykke. 
Assuredly. 

Lady  Inger. 
Then  that  is  why  you  visit  Ostrat? 

Nils  Lykke. 

In  part.  But  it  is  far  from  my  purpose  to  demand 
any  profession  of  loyalty  from  you 

Lady  Inger. 
What  then  ? 

Nils  Lykke. 

Hearken  to  me,  Lady  Inger!  You  said  yourself  but 
now  that  your  position  is  no  easy  one.  You  stand  half 
way  between  two  hostile  camps,  whereof  neither  dares 
trust  you  fully.  Your  own  interest  must  needs  bind 
you  to  u  s.  On  the  other  hand,  you  are  bound  to  the 
disaffected  by  the  bond  of  nationality,  and — who  knows  ? 
— mayhap  by  some  secret  tie  as  well. 

Lady  Inger. 
[To  herself.]     A  secret  tie!     Oh  God,  can  he ? 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Notices  her  emotion,  but  makes  no  sign,  and  continues 
without  change  of  manner.]  You  cannot  but  see  that 
such  a  position  must  ere  long  become  impossible. — Sup- 
pose, now,  it  lay  in  my  power  to  free  you  from  these 
embarrassments  which 


act  ii]         LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  79 

Lady  Inger. 
In  your  power,  you  say  ? 

Nils  Lykke. 

First  of  all,  Lady  Inger,  I  would  beg  you  to  lay  no 
stress  on  any  careless  words  I  may  have  used  concerning 
that  which  lies  between  us  two.  Think  not  that  I  have 
forgotten  for  a  moment  the  wrong  I  have  done  you.  Sup- 
pose, now,  I  had  long  purposed  to  make  atonement,  as 
far  as  might  be,  where  I  had  sinned.  Suppose  it  were 
for  that  reason  I  had  contrived  to  have  this  mission 
assigned  me. 

Lady  Inger. 

Speak  your  meaning  more  clearly,  Sir  Councillor; — 
I  cannot  follow  you. 

Nils  Lykke. 

I  can  scarce  be  mistaken  in  thinking  that  you,  as  well 
as  I,  know  of  the  threatened  troubles  in  Sweden.  You 
know,  or  at  least  you  can  guess,  that  this  rising  is  of  far 
wider  aim  than  is  commonly  supposed,  and  you  under- 
stand therefore  that  our  King  cannot  look  on  quietly 
and  let  things  take  their  course.     Am  I  not  right? 

Lady  Inger. 
Go  on. 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Searchingly,  after  a  short  pause.]  There  is  one 
possible  chance  that  might  endanger  Gustav  Vasa's 
throne 


80  LADY  INGER   OF   OSTRAT         [act  ii 

Lady  Inger. 
[To  herself.]     Whither  is  he  tending? 

Nils  Lykke. 
the   chance,   namely,   that   there   should   exist  in 


Sweden  a  man  entitled  by  his  birth  to  claim  election  to 
the  kingship. 

Lady  Inger. 

[Evasively.]  The  Swedish  nobles  have  been  even  as 
bloodily  hewn  down  as  our  own,  Sir  Councillor.  Where 
would  you  seek  for ? 

Nils  Lykke. 
[With  a  smile.]     Seek  ?     The  man  is  found  already 


Lady  Inger. 
[Starts  violently.]     Ah!     He  is  found? 

Nils  Lykke. 

and  he  is  too  closely  akin  to  you,  Lady  Inger,  to 

be  far  from  your  thoughts  at  this  moment. 

[Looks  fixedly  at  fier. 
The  last  Count  Sture  left  a  son 

Lady  Inger. 
[With  a  cry.]     Holy  Saviour,  how  know  you ? 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Surprised.]  Be  calm,  Madam,  and  let  me  finish. 
— This  young  man  has  till  now  lived  quietly  with  his 
mother,  Sten  Sture's  widow. 


act  ii]         LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  81 

Lady  Inger. 
[Breathes  more  freely.]     With — ?     Ah,  yes — true,  true! 

Nils  Lykke. 

But  now  he  has  come  forward  openly.  He  has  shown 
himself  in  the  Dales  as  leader  of  the  peasants;  their 
numbers  are  growing  day  by  day;  and — as  mayhap  you 
know — they  are  finding  friends  among  the  peasants  on 
this  side  of  the  border-hills. 

Lady  Inger. 

[Who  has  in  the  meantime  regained  Iter  composure.] 
Sir  Councillor, — you  speak  of  all  these  matters  as  though 
they  must  of  necessity  be  known  to  me.  What  ground 
have  I  given  you  to  believe  so?  I  know,  and  wish  to 
know,  nothing.  All  my  care  is  to  live  quietly  within  my 
own  domain;  I  give  no  countenance  to  disturbers  of  the 
peace;  but  neither  must  you  reckon  on  me  if  it  be  your 
purpose  to  suppress  them. 

Nils  Lykke. 

[In  a  low  voice.]  Would  you  still  be  inactive,  were  it 
my  purpose  to  come  to  their  aid  ? 

Lady  Inger. 
How  am  I  to  understand  you  ? 

Nils  Lykke. 

Have  you  not  seen,  then,  whither  I  have  been  aiming 
all  this  time? — Well,  I  will  tell  you  all,  frankly  and 
openly.     Know,   then,   that  the   King  and   his  Council 


82  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT         [act  ii 

see  clearly  that  we  can  have  no  sure  footing  in  Norway 
so  long  as  the  nobles  and  the  people  rontinno,  as  h,qw- 
to_think  themselves  wronged  and  oppressed.  We  un- 
derstand to  the  full  that  willing  allies  are  better  than 
sullen  subjects;  and  we  have  therefore  no  heartier  wish 
than  to  loosen  the  bonds  that  hamper  us,  in  effect,  even 
as  straitly  as  you.  But  you  will  scarce  deny  that  the 
temper  of  Norway  towards  us  makes  such  a  step  too 
dangerous — so  long  as  we  have  no  sure  support  behind 
us. 

Lady  Ingeb. 

And  this  support ? 

Nils  Lykke. 

Should  naturally  come  from  Sweden.  But,  mark 
well,  not  so  long  as  Gustav  Vasa  holds  the  helm;  h  i  s 
reckoning  with  Denmark  is  not  yet  settled,  and  mayhap 
never  will  be.  But  a  new  king  of  Sweden,  who  had  the 
people  with  him,  and  who  owed  his  throne  to  the  help 

of  Denmark .     Well,  you  begin  to  understand  me  ? 

Then  we  could  safely  say  to  you  Norwegians:  "Take 
back  your  old  ancestral  rights;  choose  you  a  ruler  after 
your  own  mind;  be  our  friends  in  need,  as  we  will  be 
yours!" — Mark  you  well,  Lady  Inger,  herein  is  our  gen- 
erosity less  than  it  may  seem;  for  you  must  see  that,  far 
from  weakening,  'twill  rather  strengthen  us. 

And  now  that  I  have  opened  my  heart  to  you  so  fully, 
do  you  too  cast  away  all  mistrust.  And  therefore  [con- 
fidently]— the  knight  from  Sweden,  who  came  hither  an 
hour  before  me 

Lady  Inger. 
Then  you  already  know  of  his  coming  ? 


act  ii]        LADY    INGER    OF    OSTRAT  83 

Nils  Lykke. 
Most  certainly.     'Tis  he  whom  I  seek. 

Lady  Inger. 

[To  herself.]  Strange!  Then  it  must  be  as  Olaf 
Skaktavl  said.  [To  Nils  Lykke.]  I  pray  you  wait 
here,  Sir  Councillor!     I  will  go  bring  him  to  you. 

[Goes  out  through  the  Banquet  Hall. 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Looks  after  her  awhile  in  exultant  astonishment.] 
She  is  bringing  him!  Ay,  truly — she  is  bringing  him! 
The  battle  is  half  won.  I  little  thought  it  would  go  so 
smoothly. 

She  is  deep  in  the.  counsels  of  the  rebels;  she  started 
in  terror  when  I  named  Sten  Sture 's  son. 

And  now  ?  H'm !  Since  Lady  Inger  has  been  simple 
enough  to  walk  into  the  snare,  Nils  Sture  will  not  make 
many  difficulties.     A  hot-blooded  boy,  thoughtless  and 

rash .     With  my  promise  of  help  he  will  set  forth  \ 

at  once — unhappily  Jens  Bielke  will  snap  him  up  by  I 
I  he  way — and  the  whole  rising  will  be  nipped  in  the  f 
bud. 

And  then  ?  Then  one  further  point  to  our  advantage. 
It  is  spread  abroad  that  the  young  Count  Sture  has  been 
at  Ostrat, — that  a  Danish  envoy  has  had  audience  of 
Lady  Inger — that  thereupon  the  young  Count  Nils  has 
been  snapped  up  by  King  Gustav's  men-at-arms  a  mile 

from    the    castle. Let    Inger   Gyldenlove's    name 

among   the   people   stand    never   so  high — 'twill   scarce 
recover  from  such  a  blow. 

[Starts  up  in  sudden  uneasiness. 


84  LADY   INGER  OF   OSTRAT         [act  ii 

By  all  the  devils — !  What  if  she  has  scented  mis- 
chief? It  may  be  he  is  even  now  slipping  through  our 
fingers —  [Listens  towards  the  hall,  and  says  with  relief.] 
Ah,  there  is  no  fear.     Here  they  come. 

[Lady   Inger   Gyldenlove   enters  from  the  hall, 
accompanied  by  Olaf  Skaktavl. 

Lady  Inger. 
[To  Nils  Lykke.]     Here  is  the  man  you  seek. 

Nils  Lykke. 
[Aside.]     Powers  of  hell — what  means  this? 

Lady  Inger. 

I  have  told  this  knight  your  name  and  all  that  you 
have  imparted  to  me 


Nils  Lykke. 
[Irresolutely.]     Ay  ?     Have  you  so  ?     Well- 

Lady  Inger. 


and  I  will  not  hide  from  you  that  his  faith  in  your 

help  is  none  of  the  strongest. 

Nils  Lykke. 
Is  it  not  ? 

Lady  Inger. 

Can  you  marvel  at  that  ?     Surely  you  know  both  his 
way  of  thinking  and  his  bitter  fate 


act  ii]         LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  85 

Nils  Lykke. 
This  man's — ?     Ah — yes,  truly 

Olap  Skaktavl. 

[To  Nils  Lykke.]     But  seeing  'tis  Peter  Kanzler  him- 
self that  has  appointed  us  this  meeting 

Nils  Lykke. 

Peter    Kanzler — ?     [Recovers    himself  quickly.]     Ay, 
right, — I  have  a  mission  from  Peter  Kanzler 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

He  must  know   best  whom  he  can   trust.     So  why 
should  I  trouble  my  head  with  pondering  how 

Nils  Lykke. 
Ay,  you  are  right,  noble  Sir;  why  waste  time  over  that  ? 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
Rather  let  us  come  straight  to  the  matter. 

Nils  Lykke. 

Straight  to  the  point;  no  beating  about  the  bush — 'tis 
ever  my  fashion. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

Then  will  you  tell  me  your  errand  here? 

Nils  Lykke. 
Methinks  you  can  partly  guess  my  errand 


86  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT         [act  n 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
Peter  Kanzler  said  something  of  papers  that 

Nils  Lykke. 
Papers?     Ay,  true,  the  papers! 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
Doubtless  you  have  them  with  you  ? 

Nils  Lykke. 

Of  course;  safely  bestowed;  so  safely  that  I  cannot  at 

once 

[Appears  to  search  the  inner  pockets  of  his  doublet; 
says  to  himself: 
Who  the  devil  is  he  ?     What  pretext  can  I  make  ?     I 

may  be  on  the  brink  of  great  discoveries 

[Notices  that  the  Servants  are  laying  the  table  and 

lighting  the  lamps  in  the  Banquet  Hall,  and  says 

to  Olaf  Skaktavl: 

Ah,  I  see  Lady  Inger  has  taken  order  for  the  evening 

meal.     Mayhap  we  could  better  talk  of  our  affairs  at 

table. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

Good;  as  you  will. 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Aside.]     Time  gained — all  gained! 

[To  Lady  Inger  with  a  show  of  great  friendliness: 
And  meanwhile  we  might  learn  what  part  Lady  Inger 
Gyldenlove  purposes  to  take  in  our  design  ? 


act  ii]         LADY   INGER  OF   OSTRAT  87 

Lady  Inger. 
I  ? — None. 

Nils  Lykke  and  Olaf  Skaktavl. 

None! 

Lady  Inger. 

Can  ye  marvel,  noble  Sirs,  that  I  venture  not  on  a 
game  wherein  loss  would  mean  loss  of  all  ?  And  that, 
too,  when  none  of  my  allies  dare  trust  me  fully. 

Nils  Lykke. 

That  reproach  touches  not  me.  I  trust  you  blindly; 
I  pray  you  be  assured  of  that. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
Who  should  believe  in  you,  if  not  your  countrymen  ? 

Lady  Inger. 

Truly, — this  confidence  rejoices  me. 

[Goes  to  a  cupboard  in  the  back  wall  and  fills  two 
goblets  with  wine. 

Nils  Lykke. 
[Aside.]     Curse  her,  will  she  slip  out  of  the  noose? 

Lady  Inger. 

[Hands  a  goblet  to  each.]  And  since  so  it  is,  I  offer 
you  a  cup  of  welcome  to  Ostrut.  '  Drink,  noble  knights! 
Pledge  me  to  the  last  drop! 


88  LADY   INGER  OF   OSTRAT         [act  ii 

[Looks  from  one  to  the  other  after  they  have  drunk, 
and  says  gravely: 
But  now  I  must  tell  you — one  goblet  held  a  welcome 
for  my  friend;  the  other — death  for  my  enemy! 

Nils  Lykke. 
[Throws  down  the  goblet.]     Ah,  I  am  poisoned! 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

[At  the  same  time,  clutches  his  sword.]     Death  and  hell, 
have  you  murdered  me  ? 

Lady  Inger. 

[To  Olaf  Skaktavl,  pointing  to  Nils  Lykke.]     You 

see  the  Danes'  confidence  in  Inger  Gyldenlove 

[To    Nils    Lykke,    pointing    to    Olaf    Skaktavl.] 

and  likewise  my  countrymen's  faith  in  me! 

[  To  both  of  them. 
Yet  you  would  have  me  place  myself  in  your  power? 
Gently,  noble  Sirs — gently!     The  Lady  of  Ostrat  is  not 
yet  in  her  dotage. 

.  [Elina  Gyldenlove  enters  by  the  door  on  the  left. 

Elina. 
I  heard  loud  voices — .     What  is  amiss  ? 

Lady  Inger. 
[To  Nils  Lykke.]     My  daughter  Elina. 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Softly.]     Elina!     I  had  not  pictured  her  thus. 

[Elina  catches  sight  of  Nils  Lykke,  and  stands  still, 
as  in  surprise,  gazing  at  him. 


act  ii]         LADY   INGER   OF  OSTRAT  89 

Lady  Inger. 
[Toucfies  tier  arm.]     My  child — this  knight  is 

Elina. 

[Motions  her  mother  back  with  her  hand,  still  looking 
intently  at  him,  and  says:]  There  is  no  need!  I  see 
who  he  is.     He  is  Nils  Lykke. 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Aside,  to  Lady  Inger.]  How  ?  Does  she  know  me  ? 
Can  Lucia  have — ?     Can  she  know ? 

Lady  Inger. 

Hush!     She  knows  nothing. 

Elina. 

[To  lierself.]  I  knew  it; — even  so  must  Nils  Lykke 
appear. 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Approaches  her.]  Yes,  Elina  Gyldenlove  —  you  have 
guessed  aright.  And  as  it  seems  that,  in  some  sense, 
you  know  me, — and,  moreover,  as  I  am  your  mother's 
guest, — you  will  not  deny  me  the  flower-spray  you  wear 
in  your  bosom.  So  long  as  it  is  fresh  and  fragrant,  I 
shall  have  in  it  an  image  of  yourself. 

Elina. 

[Proudly,  but  still  gazing  at  him.]  Pardon  me,  Sir 
Knight — 'twas  plucked  in  my  own  chamber,  and  there 
can  grow  no  flower  for  you. 


90  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT         [act  ii 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Loosening  a  spray  of  flowers  that  he  wears  in  the  front 
of  his  doublet.]  At  least  you  will  not  disdain  this  humble 
gift.  'Twas  a  farewell  token  from  a  courtly  dame  when 
I  set  forth  from  Trondhiem  this  morning. — But  mark 
me,  noble  maiden, — were  I  to  offer  you  a  gift  that  were 
fully  worthy  of  you,  it  could  be  nought  less  than  a  princely 
crown. 

Elina. 

[Who  has  taken  the  flowers  passively.]     And  were  it 
the  royal  crown  of  Denmark  you  held  forth  to  me — be- 
fore I  shared  it  with    you,    I  would  crush  it  to  pieces 
between  my  hands,  and  cast  the  fragments  at  your  feet! 
[Throws  down  the  flowers  at  his  feet,  and  goes  into 
the  Banquet  Hall. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

[Mutters  to  himself.]  Bold — as  Inger  Ottisdaughter 
by  Knut  Alfson's  bier! 

Lady  Inger. 

[Softly,  after  looking  alternately  at  Elina  and  Nils 
Lykke.]  The  wolf  c  a  n  be  tamed.  Now  to  forge  the 
fetters. 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Picks  up  the  flowers  and  gazes  in  rapture  after  Elina.] 
God's  holy  blood,  but  she  is  proud  and  fair! 


ACT  THIRD 

The  Banquet  Hall.  A  high  bow-window  in  the  back- 
ground; a  smaller  ivindow  in  front  on  the  left.  Sev- 
eral doors  on  each  side.  The  ceiling  is  supported  by 
massive  wooden  pillars,  on  which,  as  well  as  on  the 
walls,  are  hung  all  sorts  of  weapons.  Pictures  of 
saints,  knights,  and  ladies  hang  in  long  rows.  Pen- 
dent from  the  ceiling  a  large  many-branched  lamp, 
alight.  In  front,  on  the  right,  an  ancient  carven  high- 
seat.  In  the  middle  of  the  hall,  a  table  with  the  rem- 
nants of  tlie  evening  meal. 

Elina  Gyldenlove  enters  from  tlie  left,  slowly  and  in 
deep  thought.  Her  expression  shores  that  she  is 
going  over  again  in  her  mind  the  scene  with  Nils 
Lykke.  At  last  she  repeats  the  motion  with  which 
s fie  flung  away  the  flowers,  and  says  in  a  low  voice: 

Elina. 

And  then  he  gathered  up  the  fragments  of  the 

crown  of  Denmark — no,  'twas  the  flowers — and:  "God's 
holy  blood,  but  she  is  proud  and  fair!" 

Had  he  whispered  the  words  in  the  most  secret  spot, 
|ong  leagues  from  Ostrat, — still  had  I  heard  them! 

How  I  hate  him!  How  I  have  always  hated  him, — 
this  Nils  Lykke! — There  lives  not  another  man  like  him, 
'tis  said.  He  plays  with  women — and  treads  them  under 
his  feet. 

91 


92  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT        [act  hi 

And  'twas  to  him  my  mother  thought  to  offer  me! 
— How  I  hate  him! 

They  say  Nils  Lykke  is  unlike  all  other  men.  It  is  not 
true!  There  is  nothing  strange  in  him.  There  are  many, 
many  like  him!  When  Biorn  used  to  tell  me  his  tales,  all 
the  princes  looked  as  Nils  Lykke  looks.  When  I  sat  lonely 
here  in  the  hall  and  dreamed  my  histories,  and  my  knights 
came  and  went, — they  were  one  and  all  even  as  he. 

How  strange  and  how  good  it  is  to  hate!  Never 
have  I  known  how  sweet  it  can  be — till  to-night.  Ah — 
not  to  live  a  thousand  years  would  I.  sell  the  moments  I 
have  lived  since  I  saw  him! — 

"God's  holy  blood,  but  she  is  proud " 

[Goes  slowly  towards  the  back,  opens  the  window  and 
looks  out.  Nils  Lykke  comes  in  by  the  first  door 
on  the  right. 

Nils  Lykke. 

[To  himself.]  "Sleep  well  at  Ostrat,  Sir  Knight,"  said 
Inger  Gyldenlove  as  she  left  me.     Sleep  well  ?     Ay,  'tis 

easily  said,  but Out  there,  sky  and  sea  in  tumult; 

below,  in  the  grave- vault,  a  young  girl  on  her  bier;  the 
fate  of  two  kingdoms  in  my  hand; — and  in  my  breast 
a  withered  flower  that  a  woman  has  flung  at  my  feet. 
Truly,  I  fear  me  sleep  will  be  slow  of  coming.  [Notices 
Elina,  who  has  left  the  window,  and  is  going  out  on 
the  left.]  There  she  is.  Her  haughty  eyes  seem  veiled 
with  thought. — Ah,  if  I  but  dared — .  [Aloud.]  Mistress 
Elina! 

Elina. 

[Stops  at  the  door.]  What  will  you?  Why  do  you 
pursue  me  ? 


act  in]       LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  93 

Nils  Lykke. 
You  err;  I  pursue  you  not.     I  am  myself  pursued. 

Elina. 
You? 

Nils  Lykke. 

By  a  multitude  of  thoughts.     Therefore  'tis  with  sleep 
as  with  you: — it  flees  me. 

Elina. 

Go  to  the  window,  and  there  you  will  find  pastime; 
— a  storm-tossed  sea 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Smiles.]     A  storm-tossed  sea?     That  may  I  find  in 
you  as  well. 

Elina. 
In  me? 

Nils  Lykke. 
Ay,  of  that  our  first  meeting  has  assured  me. 

Elina. 
And  that  offends  you  ? 

Nils  Lykke. 

Nay,  in  nowise;  yet  I  could  wish  to  see  you  of  milder 
mood. 

Euna. 

[Proudly.]     Think  you  that  you  will  ever  have  your 
wish? 


94  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT       [act  in 

Nils  Lykke. 
I  am  sure  of  it.     I  have  a  welcome  word  to  say  to  you. 

Elina. 
What  is  it  ? 

Nils  Lykke. 
Farewell. 

Elina. 

[Conies  a  step  nearer  him.]  Farewell  ?  You  are  leav- 
ing Ostrat — so  soon  ? 

Nils  Lykke. 
This  very  night. 

Elina. 

[Seems  to  hesitate  for  a  moment;  then  says  coldly.]  Then 
take  my  greeting,  Sir  Knight!      [Bows  and  is  about  to  go. 

Nils  Lykke. 

Elina  Gyldenlove, — I  have  no  right  to  keep  you  here; 
but  'twill  be  unlike  your  nobleness  if  you  refuse  to  hear 
what  I  have  to  say  to  you. 

Elina. 
I  hear  you,  Sir  Knight. 

Nils  Lykke. 
I  know  you  hate  me. 

Elina. 
You  are  keen-sighted,  I  perceive. 


act  in]       LADY   INGER   OF  OSTRAT  95 

Nils  Lykke. 

But  I  know,  too,  that  I  have  fully  merited  your  hate. 
Unseemly  and  wounding  were  the  words  I  wrote  of  you 
in  my  letter  to  Lady  Inger. 

Elina. 
Like  enough;  I  have  not  read  them. 

Nils  Lykke. 

But  at  least  their  purport  is  not  unknown  to  you;  I 
know  your  mother  has  not  left  you  in  ignorance  of  the 
matter;  at  the  least  she  has  told  you  how  I  praised  the 
lot  of  the  man  who — :  surely  you  know  the  hope  I 
nursed — 

Elina. 
Sir  Knight — if  'tis  of  that  you  would  speak — 

Nils  Lykke. 

I  speak  of  it,  only  to  ask  pardon  for  my  words;  for  no 
other  reason,  I  swear  to  you.  If  my  fame — as  I  have 
too  much  cause  to  fear — has  gone  before  me  to  Ostrat, 
you  must  needs  know  enough  of  my  life  not  to  won- 
der that  in  such  things  I  should  go  to  work  something 
boldly.  I  have  met  many  women,  Elina  Gyldenlove; 
but  not  one  have  I  found  unyielding.  Such  lessons, 
look  you,  teach  a  man  to  be  secure.  He  loses  the  habit 
of  roundabout  ways 

Elina.      • 

Maybe  so.  I  know  not  of  what  metal  those  women 
can  have  been  made. 


96  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT       [act  hi 

For  the  rest,  you  err  in  thinking  'twas  your  letter  to 
my  mother  that  aroused  my  soul's  hatred  and  bitterness 
against  you.     It  is  of  older  date. 

Nils  Lykke. 
[Uneasily.]     Of  older  date  ?     What  mean  you  ? 

Elina. 

'Tis  as  you  guessed : — your  fame  has  gone  before  you, 
to  Ostrat,  even  as  over  all  the  land.  Nils  Lykke's  name 
is  never  spoken  save  with  the  name  of  some  woman 
whom  he  has  beguiled  and  cast  off.  Some  speak  it  in 
wrath,  others  with  laughter  and  wanton  jeering  at  those 
weak-souled  creatures.  But  through  the  wrath  and  the 
laughter  and  the  jeers  rings  the  song  they  have  made  of 
you,  full  of  insolent  challenge,  like  an  enemy's  song  of 
triumph. 

'Tis  all  this  together  that  has  begotten  my  hate  for 
you.  You  were  ever  in  my  thoughts,  and  ever  I  longed 
to  meet  you  face  to  face,  that  you  might  learn  that  there 
are  women  on  whom  your  subtle  speeches  are  lost — if  you 
should  think  to  use  them. 

Nils  Lykke. 

You  judge  me  unjustly,  if  you  judge  from  what  ru- 
mour has  told  of  me.  Even  if  there  be  truth  in  all  you 
have  heard, — you  know  not  the  causes  behind  it. — As  a 
boy  of  seventeen  I  began  my  course  of  pleasure.  I  have 
lived  full  fifteen  years  since  then.  Light  women  granted 
me  all  that  I  would — even  before  the  wish  had  shaped 
itself  into  a  prayer;  and  what  I  offered  them  they  seized 
with  eager  hands.  You  are  the  first  woman  that  has 
flung  back  a  gift  of  mine  with  scorn  at  my  feet. 


act  in]        LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  97 

Think  not  I  reproach  you.  Rather  I  honour  you  for 
it,  as  never  before  have  I  honoured  woman.  But  for 
this  I  reproach  my  fate — and  the  thought  is  a  gnawing 
bain  to  me — that  you  and  I  were  not  sooner  brought 

face  to  face. Elina  Gyldenlove!     Your  mother  has 

told  me  of  you.  While  far  from  Ostrat  life  ran  its  rest- 
less course,  you  went  your  lonely  way  in  silence,  living 
in  your  dreams  and  histories.  Therefore  you  will  under- 
stand what  I  have  to  tell  you. — Know,  then,  that  once 
I  too  lived  even  such  a  life  as  yours.  Methought  that 
when  I  stepped  forth  into  the  great  world,  a  noble  and 
stately  woman  would  come  to  meet  me,  and  would 
beckon  to  me  and  point  out  the  path  towards  a  glorious 
goal. — I  was  deceived,  Elina  Gyldenlove!  Women  came 
to  meet  me;  but  she  was  not  among  them.  Ere  yet  I  had 
come  to  full  manhood,  I  had  learnt  to  despise  them  all. 

Was  it  my  fault?  Why  were  not  the  others  even  as 
you  ? — I  know  the  fate  of  your  fatherland  lies  heavy  on 
your  soul;  and  you  know  the  part  I  have  in  these  af- 
fairs  .  'Tis  said  of  me  that  I  am  false  as  the  sea- 
foam.  Mayhap  I  am;  but  if  I  be,  it  is  women  who  have 
made  me  so.  Had  I  sooner  found  what  I  sought,— had 
I  met  a  woman  proud  and  noble  and  high-souled  even 
_as  von,  then  had  my  path  been  different  indeed.  At 
this  moment,  maybe,  I  had  been  standing  at  your  side 
as  the  champion  of  all  that  suffer  wrong  in  Norway's 
land.  For  this  I  believe:  a  woman  is  the  mightiest 
power  in  the  world,  and  in  her  hand  it  lies  to  guide  a 
man  whither  God  Almighty  would  have  him  go. 

Elina. 

[To  herself.]  Can  it  be  as  he  says?  Nay,  nay;  there 
is  falsehood  in  his  eyes  and  deceit  on  his  lips.  And  yet 
— no  song  is  sweeter  than  his  words. 


98  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT        [act  hi 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Coming  closer,  speaks  low  and  more  intimately.]  As 
you  have  dwelt  here  at  Ostrat,  alone  with  your  change- 
ful thoughts,  how  often  have  you  felt  your  bosom  stifling; 
how  often  have  the  roof  and  walls  seemed  to  shrink  to- 
gether till  they  crushed  your  very  soul.  Then  have  your 
longings  taken  wing  with  you;  then  have  you  yearned  to 
fly  far  from  here,  you  knew  not  whither. — How  often 
have  you  not  wandered  alone  by  the  fiord ;  far  out  a  ship 
has  sailed  by  in  fair  array,  with  knights  and  ladies  on 
her  deck,  with  song  and  music  of  stringed  instruments; — 
a  faint,  far-off  rumour  of  great  events  has  reached  your 
ears; — and  you  have  felt  a  longing  in  your  breast,  an 
unconquerable  craving  to  know  all  that  lies  beyond  the 
sea.  But  you  have  not  understood  what  ailed  you.  At 
times  you  have  thought  it  was  the  fate  of  your  fatherland 
that  filled  you  with  all  these  restless  broodings.  You 
deceived  yourself; — a  maiden  so  young  as  you  has  other 
food  for  musing. —  —  Elina  Gyldenlove!  Have  you 
never  had  visions  of  an  unknown  power — a  strong  mys- 
terious might,  that  binds  together  the  destinies  of  mortals  ? 
When  you  dreamed  of  the  many-coloured  life  far  out  in 
the  wide  world — when  you  dreamed  of  knightly  jousts 
and  joyous  festivals— saw  you  never  in  your  dreams  a 
knight,  who  stood  in  the  midst  of  the  gayest  rout,  with  a 
smile  on  his  lips  and  with  bitterness  in  his  heart,— a 
knight  that  had  once  dreamed  a  dream  as  fair  as  yours, 
of  a  woman  noble  and  stately,  for  whom  he  went  ever 
a-seeking,  and  ever  in  vain  ? 

Elina. 

Who  are  you,  that  have  power  to  clothe  my  most  se- 
cret thoughts  in  words  ?     How  can  you  tell  me  what  I 


act  in]       LADY   INGER   OF  OSTRAT  99 

have  borne  in  my  inmost  soul — yet  knew  it  not  myself  ? 
How  know  you ? 

Nils  Lykke. 
All  that  I  have  told  you,  I  have  read  in  your  eyes. 

Elina. 

Never  has  any  man  spoken  to  me  as  you  have  spoken. 
I  have  understood  you  but  dimly;  and  yet — all,  all  seems 
changed  since 

[To  herself.]  Now  I  understand  why  they  said  that 
Nils  Lykke  was  unlike  all  others. 

Nils  Lykke. 

There  is  one  thing  in  the  world  that  might  drive  a 
man  to  madness,  but  to  think  of  it;  and  that  is  the  thought 
of  what  might  have  been,  had  things  but  fallen  out  in 
this  way  or  that.  Had  I  met  you  on  my  path  while  the 
tree  of  my  life  was  yet  green  and  budding,  at  this  hour, 
mayhap,  you  had  been 

But  forgive  me,  noble  lady!  Our  speech  of  these  past 
few  moments  has  made  me  forget  how  we  stand  one  to 
another.  'Twas  as  though  a  secret  voice  had  told  me 
from  the  first  that  to  you  I  could  speak  openly,  without 
flattery  or  dissimulation. 

Elina. 

That  can  you. 

Nils  Lykke. 

'Tis  well; — and  it  may  be  that  this  openness  has  al- 
ready in  part  reconciled  us.  Ay — my  hope  is  yet  bolder. 
The   time   may  yet  come  when  you  will   think  of  the 


100  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT       [act  in 

stranger  knight  without  hate  or  bitterness  in  your  soul. 
Nay, — mistake  me  not !  I  mean  not  n  o  w — but  some 
time,  in  the  days  to  come.  And  that  this  may  be  the 
less  hard  for  you — and  as  I  have  begun  once  for  all  to 
speak  to  you  plainly  and  openly — let  me  tell  you 


Elina. 


Sir  Knight- 


Nils  Lykke. 

[Smiling.]  Ah,  I  see  the  thought  of  my  letter  still  af- 
frights you.  Fear  nought  on  that  score.  I  would  from 
my  heart  it  were  unwritten,  for — I  know  'twill  concern 
you  little  enough,  so  I  may  even  say  it  right  out — for  I 
love  you  not,  and  shall  never  come  to  love  you.  Fear 
nothing,  therefore,  as  I  said  before;  I  -shall  in  nowise 
seek  to 

But  what  ails  you ? 

Elina. 

Me?  Nothing,  nothing. — Tell  me  but  one  thing:  why 
do  you  still  wear  those  flowers  ?  What  would  you  with 
them  ? 

Nils  Lykke. 

These  ?  Are  they  not  a  gage  of  battle  you  have  thrown 
down  to  the  wicked  Nils  Lykke,  on  behalf  of  all  woman- 
kind ?     What  could  I  do  but  take  it  up  ? 

You  asked  what  I  would  with  them  ?  [Softly.]  When 
I  stand  again  amid  the  fair  ladies  of  Denmark — when 
the  music  of  the  strings  is  hushed  and  there  is  silence 
in  the  hall — then  will  I  bring  forth  these  flowers  and 


act  in]       LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  101 

tell  a  tale  of  a  young  maiden  sitting  alone  in  a  gloomy 

black-beamed  hall,  far  to  the  north  in  Norway 

[Breaks  off  and  bows  respectfully. 
But  I  fear  I  detain  the  noble  daughter  of  the  house 
too  long.     We  shall  meet  no  more;  for  before  daybreak 
I  shall  be  gone.     So  now  I  bid  you  farewell. 

Elina. 
Fare  you  well,  Sir  Knight!  [A  slwrt  silence. 

Nils  Lykke. 

Again  you  are  deep  in  thought,  Elina  Gyldenlove!     Is 
it  the  fate  of  your  fatherland  that  weighs  upon  you  still  ? 

Elina. 

[Shakes  her  head,  absently  gazing  straight  in  front  of 
her.]     My  fatherland  ? — I  think  not  of  my  fatherland. 

Nils  Lykke. 

Then  'tis  the  strife  and  misery  of  the  time  that  dis- 
quiets you. 

Elina. 

The  time?     I  had  forgotten  it You  go  to 

Denmark  ?     Said  you  not  so  ? 

Nils  Lykke. 
I  go  to  Denmark. 

Elina. 
Can  I  look  towards  Denmark  from  this  hall  ? 


102  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT        [act  hi 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Points  to  the  window  on  the  left.]  Ay,  from  this  win- 
dow.    Denmark  lies  there,  to  the  south. 

Elina. 

And  is  it  far  from  here?  More  than  a  hundred 
leagues  ? 

Nils  Lykke. 

Much  more.     The  sea  lies  between  you  and  Denmark. 

Elina. 

[To  herself.]  The  sea  ?  Thought  has  sea-gulls'  wings. 
The  sea  cannot  stay  it.  [Goes  out  to  tlie  left. 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Looks  after  her  awhile;  then  says:]  If  I  could  but 
spare  two  days  now — or  even  one — I  would  have  her  in 
my  power,  even  as  the  others. 

And  yet  is  there  rare  stuff  in  this  maiden.     She  is 

proud.     Might  I  not  after  all ?     No;  rather  humble 

her [Paces  the  room.]     Verily,  I  believe  she  has  set 

my  blood  afire.  Who  would  have  thought  it  possible 
after  all  these  years? — Enough  of  this!  I  must  get  out 
of  the  tangle  I  have  here  thrust  myself  into.  [Sits  in  a 
chair  on  the  right.]  What  is  the  meaning  of  it  ?  Both 
Olaf  Skaktavl  and  Inger  Gyldenlove  seem  blind  to  the 
mistrust  'twill  waken,  when  'tis  rumoured  that  I  am  in 
their  league. — Or  can  Lady  Inger  have  seen  through  my 
purpose  ?  Can  she  have  seen  that  all  my  promises  were 
but  designed  to  lure  Nils  Sture  forth  from  his  hiding- 
place  ?     [Springs  up.]     Damnation !     Is  it  I  that  have 


act  in]       LADY   INGER   OF  OSTRAT  103 

(been  fooled  ?  Tis  like  enough  that  Count  Sture  is  not 
at  Ostrat  at  all.  It  may  be  the  rumour  of  his  flight  was 
but  a  feint.      He  may  be  safe   and  sound  among  his 

friends  in  Sweden,  while  I [Walks  restlessly  up  and 

do  int.]  And  to  think  I  was  so  sure  of  success!  If  I 
should  effect  nothing?  If  Lady  Inger  should  penetrate 
all  my  designs — and  publish  my  discomfiture — .  To  be 
a  laughing-stock  both  here  and  in  Denmark!  To  have 
sought  to  lure  Lady  Inger  into  a  trap — and  given  her 
cause  the  help  it  most  needed — strengthened  her  in  the 

people's  favour !     Ah,  I  could  well-nigh  sell  myself 

to  the  Evil  One,  would  he  but  help  me  to  lay  hands  on 
Count  Sture. 

[The    window   in   the    background   is  pushed  open. 
Nils  Stensson  appears  outside. 

Nils  Lykke. 
[Clutches  at  his  sword.]     Who  is  there? 

Nils  Stensson. 

[Jumps  down  on  to  the  floor.]     Ah;  here  I  am  at  last 
Ml! 

Nils  Lykke. 
[Aside.]     What  means  this? 

Nils  Stensson. 
God's  peace,  master! 

Nils  Lykke. 

Thanks,    good    Sir!     Methinks   you    have    chosen    a 
strange  way  of  entrance. 


104  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT       [act  hi 

Nils  Stensson. 

Ay,  what  the  devil  was  I  to  do  ?     The  gate  was  shut. 
Folk  must  sleep  in  this  house  like  bears  at  Yuletide. 

Nils  Lykke. 

God  be  thanked!     Know  you  not  that  a  good  con- 
science is  the  best  pillow  ? 

Nils  Stensson. 

Ay,  it  must  be  even  so;  for  with  all  my  rattling  and 

thundering,  I 

Nils  Lykke. 

You  won  not  in  ? 


Nils  Stensson. 

You  have  hit  it.  So  I  said  to  myself:  As  you  are 
bidden  to  be  in  Ostrat  to-night,  if  you  have  to  go 
through  fire  and  water,  you  may  surely  make  free  to 
creep  through  a  window. 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Aside.]     Ah,  if  it  should  be !     [Moves  a  step  or 

two  nearer.]     Was  it,  then,  of  the  last  necessity  that  you 
should  reach  Ostrat  to-night? 

Nils  Stensson. 

Was  it  ?  Ay,  faith  but  it  was.  I  love  not  to  keep  folk 
waiting,  I  can  tell  you. 

Nils  Lykke. 

Aha, — then  Lady  Inger  Gyldenlove  looks  for  your 
coming  ? 


act  in]       LADY   INGER  OF   OSTRAT  105 

Nils  Stensson. 

Lady  Inger  Gyldenlove  ?  Nay,  that  I  can  scarce  say 
for  certain;  [with  a  sly  smile]  but  there  might  be  some 
one  else 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Smiles  in  answer.]  Ah,  so  there  might  be  some  one 
else —  ? 

Nils  Stensson. 
Tell  me— are  you  of  the  house  ? 

Nils  Lykke. 

I  ?  Well,  in  so  far  that  I  am  Lady  Inger's  guest  this 
evening. 

Nils  Stensson- 
A  guest  ?— Is  not  to-night  the  third  night  after  Mar- 
inmas? 

Nils  Lykke. 

The  third  night  after—  ?  Ay,  right  enough.— Would 
fou  seek  the  lady  of  the  house  at  once  ?  I  think  she  is 
lot  yet  gone  to  rest.  But  might  not  you  sit  down  and 
.est  awhile,  dear  young  Sir?  See,  here  is  yet  a  flagon 
of  wine  remaining,  and  doubtless  you  will  find  some  food. 
:ome,  fall  to;  you  will  do  wisely  to  refresh  your  strength. 

Nils  Stensson. 

You  are  right,  Sir;  'twere  not  amiss.  [Sits  down  by 
the  (able  and  eats  and  drinks.]  Both  roast  meat  and 
■weet  cakes!     Why,  you  live  like  lords  here!     When  one 


106  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT        [act  hi 

has  slept,  as  I  have,  on  the  naked  ground,  and  lived  on 
bread  and  water  for  four  or  five  days 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Looks  at  him  with  a  smile.]  Ay,  such  a  life  must 
be  hard  for  one  that  is  wont  to  sit  at  the  high-table  in 
noble  halls 

Nils  Stensson. 
Noble  halls ? 

Nils  Lykke. 

But  now  can  you  take  your  ease  at  Ostrat,  as  long  as 
it  likes  you. 

Nils  Stensson. 

[Pleased.]  Ay  ?  Can  I  truly  ?  Then  I  am  not  to  be- 
gone again  so  soon  ? 

Nils  Lykke. 

Nay,  that  I  know  not.  Sure  you  yourself  can  best 
say  that. 

Nils  Stensson.  • 

[Softly.]  Oh,  the  devil!  [Stretches  himself  in  the 
ehair.]  Well,  you  see^ — 'tis  not  yet  certain.  I,  for  my 
part,  were  nothing  loath  to  stay  quiet  here  awhile; 
but 

Nils  Lykke. 

But  you  are  not  in  all  points  your  own  master? 

There  be  other  duties  and  other  affairs -? 


act  in]       LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  107 

Nils  Stensson. 

Ay,  that  is  just  the  rub.  Were  I  to  choose,  I  would 
rest  me  at  Ostrat  at  least  the  winter  through;  I  have  for 

the  most  part  led  a  soldier's  life,  and [Interrupts 

himself  suddenly,  fills  a  goblet,  and  drinks.]     Your  health, 
Sir! 

Nils  Lykke. 

A  soldier's  life  ?     H'm! 

Nils  Stensson. 

Nay,  what  I  would  have  said  is  this:  I  have  long  been 
eager  to  see  Lady  Inger  Gyldenlbve,  whose  fame  has 
spread  so  wide.  She  must  be  a  queenly  woman, — is't 
not  so  ? — The  one  thing  I  like  not  in  her,  is  that  she  is 
so  cursedly  slow  to  take  open  action. 

Nils  Lykke. 
Open  action  ? 

Nils  Stensson. 

Ay,  ay,  you  understand  me;  I  mean  she  is  so  loath  to 
take  a  hand  in  driving  the  foreign  masters  out  of  the  land. 

Nils  Lykke. 

Ay,  there  you  are  right.  But  if  now  you  do  what  you 
can,  you  will  doubtless  move  her. 

Nils  Stensson. 
I?     God  knows  'twould  but  little  serve  if  I 


108  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT       [act  hi 

Nils  Lykke. 

Yet  'tis  strange  you  should  seek  her  here  if  you  have 
so  little  hope. 

Nils  Stensson. 
What  mean  you  ? — Tell  me,  know  you  Lady  Inger  ? 

Nils  Lykke. 
Surely;  since  I  am  her  guest 


Nils  Stensson. 

Ay,  but  it  in  nowise  follows  that  you  know  her.  I 
too  am  her  guest,  yet  have  I  never  seen  so  much  as  her 
shadow. 

Nils  Lykke. 
Yet  did  you  speak  of  her 

Nils  Stensson. 
as  all  folk  speak.     Why  should  I  not  ?     And  be- 


sides, I  have  often  enough  heard  from  Peter  Kanzler 

[Stops  in  confusion,  and  falls  to  eating  busily. 

Nils  Lykke. 
You  would  have  said ? 


Nils  Stensson. 
[Eating.]     I  ?     Nay,  'tis  all  one. 


[Nils  Lykke  laughs. 


Nils  Stensson. 
Why  laugh  you,  Sir? 


act  in]       LADY   INGER  OF   OSTRAT  109 

Nils  Lykke. 
At  nothing,  Sir! 

Nils  Stensson. 
[Drinks.]     A  pretty  vintage  ye  have  in  this  house. 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Approaches  him  confidentially.]  Listen — were  it  not 
time  now  to  throw  off  the  mask? 

Nils  Stensson. 

[Smiling.]  The  mask  ?  Why,  do  as  seems  best  to 
you. 

Nils  Lykke. 

Then  off  with  all  disguise.  You  are  known,  Count 
Sture! 

Nils  Stensson. 

[Bursts  out  laughing.]  Count  Sture  ?  Do  you  too  take 
me  for  Count  Sture  ?  [Rises from  the  table.]  You  mistake, 
Sir!     I  am  not  Count  Sture. 

Nils  Lykke. 
You  are  not  ?     Then  who  are  you  ? 

Nils  Stensson. 
My  name  is  Nils  Stensson. 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Looks  at  him  with  a  smile.]  H'm!  Nils  Stensson? 
But  you  are  not  Sten  Sture's  son  Nils  ?  The  name  chimes 
at  least. 


110  LADY   INGER  OF   OSTRAT       [act  hi 

Nils  Stensson. 

True  enough;  but  God  knows  what  right  I  have  to 
bear  it.  My  father  I  never  knew;  my  mother  was  & 
poor  peasant  woman,  that  was  robbed  and  murdered  in 
one  of  the  old  feuds.  Peter  Kanzler  chanced  to  be  on 
the  spot;  he  took  me  into  his  care,  brought  me  up,  and 
taught  me  the  trade  of  arms.  As  you  know,  King  Gus- 
tav  has  been  hunting  him  this  many  a  year;  and  I  have 
followed  him  faithfully,  wherever  he  went. 

Nils  Lykke. 

Peter  Kanzler  has  taught  you  more  than  the  trade 

of  arms,  meseems. Well,  well;  then  you  are  not 

Nils  Sture.     But  at  least  you  come  from  Sweden.     Peter 
Kanzler  has  sent  you  hither  to  find  a  stranger,  who 

Nils  Stensson. 
[Nods  cunningly.] who  is  found  already. 

Nils  Lykke. 
[Somewhat  uncertain.]     And  whom  you  do  not  know  ? 

Nils  Stensson. 

As  little  as  you  know  me;  for  I  swear  to  you  by  God 
himself:  I  am  not  Count  Sture! 

Nils  Lykke. 
In  sober  earnest,  Sir? 

Nils  Stensson. 

As  truly  as  I  live!  Wherefore  should  I  deny  it,  if  I 
were? 


act  in]       LADY   INGER  OF   OSTRAT  111 

Nils  Lykke. 
But  where,  then,  is  Count  Sture  ? 

Nils  Stensson. 
[In  a  low  voice.]     Ay,   that   is  just  the  secret. 

Nils  Lykke. 
[Whispers.]     Which  is  known  to  you?     Is't  not  so? 

Nils  Stensson. 
[Nods.]     And  which  I  am  to  tell  you. 

Nils  Lykke. 

To  tell  me  ?     Well  then, — where  is  he  ? 

[Nils  Stensson  points  upwards. 

Nils  Lykke. 

Up  there  ?     Lady  Inger  holds  him  hidden  in  the  loft- 
room  ? 

Nils  Stensson. 

Nay,  nay;  you  mistake  me.     [Looks  round  cautiously.] 
lils  Sture  is  in  Heaven! 

Nils  Lykke. 
Dead  ?     And  where  ? 

Nils  Stensson. 
In  his  mother's  castle, — three  weeks  since. 


112  LADY   INGER  OF   OSTRAT       [act  hi 

Nils  Lykke. 

Ah,  you  are  deceiving  me!  'Tis  but  five  or  six  days 
since  he  crossed  the  frontier  into  Norway. 

Nils  Stensson. 
Oh,  that  was  I. 

Nils  Lykke. 

But  just  before  that  the  Count  had  appeared  in  the 
Dales.  The  people,  who  were  restless  already,  broke 
out  openly  and  would  have  chosen  him  for  king. 

Nils  Stensson. 
Ha-ha-ha;  that  was  me  too! 

Nils  Lykke. 
You? 

Nils  Stensson. 

I  will  tell  you  how  it  came  about.  One  day  Peter 
Kanzler  called  me  to  him  and  gave  me  to  know  that 
great  things  were  preparing.  He  bade  me  set  out  for 
Norway  and  fare  to  Ostrat,  where  I  must  be  on  a  cer- 
tain fixed  day 

Nils  Lykke. 
[Nods.]     The  third  night  after  Martinmas. 

Nils  Stensson. 
There  I  was  to  meet  a  stranger 


Nils  Lykke. 
Ay,  right;  I  am  he. 


act  in]       LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  113 

Nils  Stensson. 


From  him  I  should  learn  what  more  I  had  to  do. 
Moreover,  I  was  to  let  him  know  that  the  Count  was 
dead  of  a  sudden,  but  that  as  yet  'twas  known  to  no  one 
save  to  his  mother  the  Countess,  together  with  Peter 
Kanzler  and  a  few  old  servants  of  the  Stures. 

Nils  Lykke. 

I  understand.  The  Count  was  the  peasants'  rallying- 
point.  Were  the  tidings  of  his  death  to  spread,  they 
would  fall  asunder, — and  'twould  all  come  to  nought. 

Nils  Stensson. 
Ay,  maybe  so;  I  know  little  of  such  matters. 

Nils  Lykke. 
But  how  came  you  to  give  yourself  out  for  the  Count  ? 

Nils  Stensson. 

How  came  I  to ?     Nay,  what  know  I  ?     Many's 

the  mad  prank  I  have  hit  on  in  my  day.  And  yet  'twas 
not  I  hit  on  it  neither;  for  whereever  I  appeared  in  the 
Dales,  the  people  crowded  round  me  and  hailed  me  as 
Count  Sture.  Deny  it  as  I  pleased,  'twas  wasted  breath. 
The  Count  had  been  there  two  years  before,  they  said — 
and  the  veriest  child  knew  me  again.  Well,  so  be  it, 
thought  I;  never  again  will  you  be  a  Count  in  this  life; 
why  not  try  what  'tis  like  for  once  ? 

Nils  Lykke. 
Well, — and  what  did  you  more  ? 


114  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT       [act  hi 

Nils  Stensson. 

I?  I  ate  and  drank  and  took  my  ease.  The  only 
pity  was  that  I  had  to  take  the  road  again  so  soon.  But 
when  I  set  forth  across  the  frontier — ha-ha-ha — I  prom- 
ised them  I  would  soon  be  back  with  three  or  four  thou- 
sand men — I  know  not  how  many  I  said — and  then  we 
would  lay  on  in  earnest. 

Nils  Lykke. 

And  you  did  not  bethink  you  that  you  were  acting 
rashly  ? 

Nils  Stensson. 
Ay,  afterwards;  but  then,  to  be  sure,  'twas  too  late. 

Nils  Lykke. 

I  grieve  for  you,  my  young  friend;  but  you  will  soon 
come  to  feel  the  effects  of  your  folly.  Let  me  tell  you 
that  you  are  pursued.  A  troop  of  Swedish  men-at-arms 
is  out  after  you. 

Nils  Stensson. 

After  me  ?  Ha-ha-ha !  Nay,  that  is  rare !  And  when 
they  come  and  think  they  have  Count  Sture  in  their 
clutches — ha-ha-ha ! 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Gravely.]     Then  'tis  all  over  with  you. 

Nils  Stensson. 
All  over ?     But  I  am  not  Count  Sture. 


act  in]       LADY   INGER  OF  OSTRAT  115 

Nils  Lykke. 

You  have  called  the  people  to  arms.     You  have  given 
seditious  promises,  and  raised  troubles  in  the  land. 

Nils  Stensson. 
Ay,  but  'twas  only  in  jest! 

Nils  Lykke. 
King  Gustav  will  scarce  take  that  view  of  the  affair. 

Nils  Stensson. 

Truly,  there  is  something  in  what  you  say.     To  think 

I  could  be  so  featherwitted Well,  well,  I'm  not  a 

dead  man  yet!     You  will  protect  me;  and  besides — the 
men-at-arms  can  scarce  be  at  my  heels  yet. 

Nils  Lykke. 
But  what  else  have  you  to  tell  me? 

Nils  Stensson. 

I  ?     Nothing.     When    once    I    have    given    you    the 
packet 

Nils  Lykke. 
[Off  his  guard.]     The  packet  ? 

Nils  Stensson. 
Ay,  sure  you  know 

Nils  Lykke. 
Ah,  right,  right;  the  papers  from  Peter  Kanzler 


116  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT       [act  hi 

Nils  Stensson. 

See,  here  they  all  are. 

[  Takes  out  a  packet  from  inside  his  doublet,  and  hands 
it  to  Nils  Lykke. 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Aside.]     Letters  and  papers  for  Olaf  Skaktavl. 

[To  Nils  Stensson. 
The  packet  is  open,  I  see.     'Tis  like  you  know  what  it 
contains  ? 

Nils  Stensson. 

No,  good  sir;  I  love  not  to  read  writing;  and  for  reason 
good. 

Nils  Lykke. 

I  understand;  you  have  given  most  care  to  the  trade 
of  arms.  [Sits  down  by  the  table  on  the  right,  and  runs 
through  the  papers.]  Aha!  Here  is  light  enough  and  to 
spare  on  what  is  brewing. 

This  small  letter  tied  with  a  silken  thread — [Examines 
the  address.]  This  too  for  Olaf  Skaktavl.  [Opens  the  let- 
ter, and  glances  through  its  contents.]  From  Peter  Kanz- 
ler.  I  thought  as  much.  [Reads  under  his  breath.]  "I 
am  hard  bested,  for — ■";  ay,  sure  enough;  here  it  stands, 
—  "Young  Count  Sture  has  been  gathered  to  his  fa- 
thers, even  at  the  time  fixed  for  the  revolt  to  break 
forth"  —  " — but  all  may  yet  be  made  good — "  What 
now  ?  [Reads  on  in  astonishment.]  "  You  must  know,  then, 
Olaf  Skaktavl,  that  the  young  man  who  brings  you  this 
letter  is  a  son  of — "  Heaven  and  earth — can  it  be  so  ? 
—Ay,  by  the  cross  of  Christ,  even  so  'tis  written !  [Glances 
at  Nils  Stensson.]  Can  he  be — ?  Ah,  if  it  were  so! 
[Reads  on.]     "I  have  nurtured  him  since  he  was  a  yea* 


act  in]       LADY   INGER  OF   OSTRAT  117 

old;  but  up  to  this  day  I  have  ever  refused  to  give  him 
back,  trusting  to  have  in  him  a  sure  hostage  for  Inger 
Gyldenlove's  faithfulness  to  us  and  to  our  friends.  Yet 
in  that  respect  he  has  but  little  availed  us.  You  may 
marvel  that  I  told  you  not  this  secret  when  you  were 
with  me  here  of  late;  therefore  will  I  confess  freely  that 
I  feared  you  might  seize  upon  him,  even  as  I  had  done, 
and  to  the  same  intent.  But  now,  when  you  have  seen 
Lady  Inger,  and  have  doubtless  assured  yourself  how 
loath  she  is  to  have  a  hand  in  our  undertaking,  you  will 
see  that  'tis  wisest  to  give  her  back  her  own  as  soon  as 
may  be.     Well  might  it  come  to  pass  that  in  her  joy  and 

security  and  thankfulness — " " — that  is  now  our 

last  hope."  [Sits  for  awhile  as  though  struck  dumb  with 
surprise;  then  exclaims  in  a  low  voice:]  Aha, — what  a 
letter!     Gold  would  not  buy  it! 

Nils  Stensson. 

'Tis  plain  I  have  brought  you  weighty  tidings.  Ay, 
ay, — Peter  Kanzler  has  many  irons  in  the  fire,  folk  say. 

Nils  Lykke. 

[To  himself.]  What  to  do  with  all  this?  A  thou- 
sand paths  are  open  to  me —  What  if  I  were — ?  No, 
'twere  to  risk  too  much.  But  if — ah,  if  I — ?  I  will 
venture  it!  [Tears  the  letter  across,  crumples  up  tlie  pieces, 
and  hides  tltem  inside  his  doublet;  puts  back  the  otlier  pa- 
pers into  the  packet,  which  he  thrusts  inside  his  belt;  rises 
and  says:]     A  word,  my  young  friend! 

Nils  Stensson. 

[Approaching  him.]  Well — your  looks  say  that  the 
game  goes  bravely. 


118  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT       [act  m 

Nils  Lykke. 

Ay,  by  my  soul  it  does.  You  have  given  me  a  hand 
of  nought  but  court  cards, — queens  and  knaves 

1       Nils  Stensson. 

But  what  of  me,  that  have  brought  all  these  good  tid- 
ings ?     Have  I  nought  more  to  do  ? 

Nils  Lykke. 

You  ?  Ay,  that  have  you.  You  belong  to  the  game. 
You  are  a  king — and  king  of  trumps  too. 

Nils  Stensson.. 

I  a  king?  Oh,  now  I  understand;  you  are  thinking 
of  my  exaltation 

Nils  Lykke. 
Your  exaltation  ? 

Nils  Stensson. 

Ay;  that  which  you  foretold  for  me,  if  King  Gustav's 

men  got  me  in  their  clutches 

[Makes  a  motion  to  indicate  hanging. 

Nils  Lykke. 

True  enough; — but  let  that  trouble  you  no  more.  It 
now  lies  with  yourself  alone  whether  within  a  month  you 
shall  have  the  hempen  noose  or  a  chain  of  gold  about 
your  neck. 

Nils  Stensson. 

A  chain  of  gold  ?     And  it  lies  with  me  ? 

[Nils  Lykke  nods. 


I 


act  ni]       LADY   INGER  OF   OSTRAT  119 

Nils  Stensson. 

Why,  then,  the  devil  take  doubting!     Do  you  but  tell 
me  what  I  am  to  do. 


Nils  Lykke. 

I  will.  But  first  you  must  swear  me  a  solemn  oath 
that  no  living  creature  in  the  wide  world  shall  know 
what  I  confide  to  you. 

Nils  Stensson. 
Is  that  all  ?     You  shall  have  ten  oaths,  if  you  will. 

Nils  Lykke. 
Not  so  lightly,  young  Sir!     'Tis  no  jesting  matter. 

Nils  Stensson. 
Well,  well;  I  am  grave  enough. 

Nils  Lykke. 

In  the  Dales  you  called  yourself  a  Count's  son; — is't 
not  so  ? 

Nils  Stensson. 

Nay — begin  you  now  on  that  again  ?  Have  I  not 
made  free  confession 

Nils  Lykke. 

You  mistake  me.  What  you  said  in  the  Dales  was 
the  truth. 

Nils  Stensson. 

The  truth  ?  What  mean  you  by  that  ?  Tell  me 
but ! 


120  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT       [act  hi 

Nils  Lykke. 

First  your  oath !  The  holiest,  the  most  inviolable  you 
can  swear. 

Nils  Stensson. 

That  you  shall  have.  Yonder  on  the  wall  hangs  the 
picture  ot  the  Holy  Virgin 

Nils  Lykke. 

The  Holy  Virgin  has  grown  infirm  of  late.  Know  you 
not  what  the  monk  of  Wittenberg  maintains? 

Nils  Stensson. 

Fie!  how  can  you  heed  the  monk  of  Wittenberg? 
Peter  Kanzler  says  he  is  a  heretic. 

Nils  Lykke. 

Well,  let  us  not  dispute  the  matter.  Here  can  I  show 
you  a  saint  will  serve  full  well  to  make  oath  by.  [Points 
to  a  picture  hanging  on  one  of  the  panels.]  Come  hither, 
— swear  that  you  will  be  silent  till  I  myself  release  your 
tongue — silent,  as  you  hope  for  Heaven's  salvation  for 
yourself  and  for  the  man  whose  picture  hangs  there. 

Nils  Stensson. 

[Approaching  the  picture.]  I  swear  it — so  help  me 
God's  holy  word!  [Falls  back  a  step  in  amazement.] 
But — Christ  save  me ! 

Nils  Lykke. 
What  now  ? 


act  in]       LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  121 

Nils  Stensson. 
The  picture — !     Sure  'tis  I  myself! 

Nils  Lykke. 

'Tis  old  Sten  Sture,  even  as  he  lived  and  moved  in 
his  youthful  years. 

Nils  Stensson. 

Sten  Sture! — And  the  likeness — ?  And — said  you  not 
I  spoke  the  truth,  when  I  called  myself  a  Count's  son  ? 
Was't  not  so  ? 

Nils  Lykke. 
So  it  was. 

Nils  Stensson. 

Ah,  I  have  it,  I  have  it!     I  am 


Nils  Lykke. 
You  are  Sten'Sture's  son,  good  Sir! 

Nils  Stensson. 
[With  the  quiet  of  amazement.]     I  Sten  Sture's  son! 

Nils  Lykke. 

On  the  mother's  side  too  your  blood  is  noble.  Peter 
Kanzler  spoke  not  the  truth,  if  he  said  that  a  poor  peas- 
ant woman  was  your  mother. 

Nils  Stensson. 
Oh  strange!  oh  marvellous!     But  can  I  believe ? 


122  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT        [act  hi 

Nils  Lykke. 

You  may  believe  all  that  I  tell  you.  But  remember, 
all  this  will  be  merely  your  ruin,  if  you  should  forget 
what  you  swore  to  me  by  your  father's  salvation. 

Nils  Stensson. 

Forget  it?  Nay,  that  you  may  be  sure  I  never  shall. 
— But  you,  to  whom  I  have  given  my  word, — tell  me — 
who  are  you  ? 

Nils  Lykke. 

My  name  is  Nils  Lykke. 

Nils  Stensson. 

[Surprised.]  Nils  Lykke  ?  Surely  not  the  Danish 
Councillor  ? 

^  Nils  Lykke. 

Even  so. 

Nils  Stensson. 

And  it  was  you —  ?  'Tis  strange.  How  come 
you ? 

Nils  Lykke. 

to    be    receiving    missives    from    Peter    Kanzler? 

You  marvel  at  that  ? 

Nils  Stensson. 

I  cannot  deny  it.  He  has  ever  named  you  as  our 
bitterest  foe 

Nils  Lykke. 

And  therefore  you  mistrust  me? 


act  in]       LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  123 

Nils  Stensson. 
Nay,  not  wholly  that;  but— well,  the  devil  take  musing! 

Nils  Lykke. 

Well  said.  Go  but  your  own  way,  and  you  are  as 
sure  of  the  halter  as  you  are  of  a  Count's  title  and  a 
chain  of  gold  if  you  trust  to  me. 

Nils  Stensson. 

That  will  I.  My  hand  upon  it,  dear  Sir!  Do  you 
but  help  me  with  good  counsel  as  long  as  there  is  need; 
when  counsel  gives  place  to  blows,  I  shall  look  to  my- 
self. 

Nils  Lykke. 

'Tis  well.  Come  with  me  now  into  yonder  chamber, 
and  I  will  tell  you  how  all  these  matters  stand,  and  what 
you  have  still  to  do.  [Goes  out  to  the  right. 

Nils  Stensson. 

[With  a  glance  at  the  picture.]     I  Sten  Sture's  son! 

Oh,  marvellous  as  a  dream ! 

[Goes  out  after  Nils  Lykke. 


ACT   FOURTH 

The  Banquet  Hall,  as  before,  but  without  the  supper-table. 

Biorn,  the  majordomo,  enters  carrying  a  lighted  branch- 
candlestick,  and  lighting  in  Lady  Inger  and  Olaf 
Skaktavl  by  the  second  door  on  the  left.  Lady 
Inger  has  a  bundle  of  papers  in  her  hand. 

Lady  Inger. 

[To  Biorn.]  And  you  are  sure  my  daughter  had 
speech  with  the  knight,  here  in  the  hall  ? 

Biorn. 

[Putting  down  the  branch-candlestick  on  the  table  on 
the  left.]  Sure  as  may  be.  I  met  her  even  as  she  stepped 
into  the  passage. 

Lady  Inger. 

And  she  seemed  greatly  moved?     Said  you  not  so? 

Biorn. 

^She  looked  all   pale  and   disturbed.     I  asked   if  she 
Bic  sick;  she  answered  not,  but  said :  "Go  to  my  mother 
a-fnd   tell   her  the   knight  sets  forth  from  here  ere  day- 
break:  if  she  have  letters  or  messages  for  him,  beg  her 
^not  to  delay  him  needlessly."    And  then  she  added  some- 
what that  I  heard  not  rightly. 

124 


act  iv]        LADY   INGER   OP   OSTRAT  125 

Lady  Inger. 
Did  you  not  hear  it  at  all  ? 

Biorn. 

It  sounded   to  me  as  though   she  said: — "Almost   I 
fear  he  has  already  tarried  too  long  at  Ostrat." 

Lady  Inger. 
And  the  knight?     Where  is  he? 

Biorn. 
In  his  chamber  belike,  in  the  gate-wing. 

Lady  Inger. 

[t  is  well.     What  I  have  to  send  by  him  is  ready.     Go 
to  him  and  say  I  await  him  here  in  the  hall. 

[Biorn  goes  out  to  the  right. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

Know  you,  Lady  Inger, — 'tis  true  that  in  such  things 

I  am  blind  as  a  mole;  yet  seems  it  to  me  as  though 

h'm! 

Lady  Inger. 
Well  ? 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

as   though    Nils    Lykke    bore   a    mind    to   your 

daughter. 

Lady  Inger. 

Then  'twould  seem  you  are  not  so  blind  after  all;  for 
I  am  the  more  deceived  if  you  be  not  right.     Marked 


126  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT        [act  iv 

you  not  at  the  supper-board  how  eagerly  he  listened  to 
the  least  word  I  let  fall  concerning  Elina  ? 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
He  forgot  both  food  and  drink. 

Lady  Inger. 
And  our  secret  affairs  as  well. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
Ay,  and  what  is  more — the  papers  from  Peter  Kanzler. 

Lady  Inger. 
And  from  all  this  you  conclude ? 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

From  all  this  I  chiefly  conclude  that,  as  you  know 
Nils  Lykke  and  the  name  he  bears,  especially  in  all  that 
touches  women 

Lady  Inger. 
1  should  be  right  glad  to  know  him  outside  my 


gates  ? 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
Ay;  and  that  as  soon  as  may  be. 

Lady  Inger. 

[Smiling.]     Nay — the  case  is  just  the  contrary,  Olaf 
Skaktavl ! 


act  iv]        LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  127 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
How  mean  you  ? 

Lady  Inger. 

If  things  be  as  we  both  think,  Nils  Lykke  must  in 
nowise  depart  from  Ostrat  yet  awhile. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

[Looks  at  Jier  ivith  disapproval.]  Are  you  again  em- 
barked on  crooked  courses,  Lady  Inger?  What  guile 
are  you  now  devising  ?  Something  that  may  increase 
your  own  power  at  the  cost  of  our 

Lady  Inger. 

Oh  this  blindness,  that  makes  you  all  do  me  such 
wrong!  I  see  well  you  think  I  purpose  to  make  Nils 
Lykke  my  daughter's  husband.  Were  such  a  thought 
in  my  mind,  why  had  I  refused  to  take  part  in  what  is 
afoot  in  Sweden,  when  Nils  Lykke  and  all  the  Danish 
crew  seem  willing  to  support  it? 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

Then  if  it  be  not  your  wish  to  win  him  and  bind  him 
to  you — what  would  you  with  him  ? 

Lady  Inger. 

I  will  tell  you  in  few  words.  In  a  letter  to  me,  Nils 
Lykke  has  spoken  of  the  high  fortune  it  were  to  be  allied 
to  our  house;  and  I  do  not  say  but,  for  a  moment,  I  let 
myself  think  of  the  matter. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

Ay,  see  you! 


128  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT        [act  iv 

Lady  Inger. 

To  wed  Nils  Lykke  to  one  of  my  house  were  doubt- 
less a  great  step  towards  stanching  many  discords  in 
our  land. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

Meseems  your  daughter  Merete's  marriage  with  Vin- 
zents  Lunge  might  have  taught  you  what  comes  of  such 
a  step.  Scarce  had  my  lord  gained  firm  footing  among 
us,  when  he  began  to  make  free  with  both  our  goods 
and  our  rights 

Lady  Inger. 

I  know  it  even  too  well,  Olaf  Skaktavl!  But  times 
there  be  when  my  thoughts  are  manifold  and  strange.  I 
cannot  impart  them  fully  either  to  you  or  to  any  one  else. 
Often  I  know  not  the  right  course  to  choose.  And  yet 
— a  second  time  to  make  a  Danish  lord  my  son-in-law, 
— nought  but  the  uttermost  need  could  drive  me  to  that 
resource;  and  Heaven  be  praised — things  have  not  yet 
come  to   that! 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

I  am  no  wiser  than  before,  Lady  Inger; — why  would 
you  keep  Nils  Lykke  at  Ostrat? 

Lady  Inger. 

[In  a  low  voice.]  Because  I  owe  him  an  undying  hate. 
Nils  Lykke  has  done  me  deadlier  wrong  than  any  other 
man.  I  cannot  tell  you  wherein  it  lies;  but  never  shall 
I  rest  till  I  am  avenged  on  him.  See  you  not  now  ? 
Say  that  Nils  Lykke  were  to  love  my  daughter — as  me- 
seems were  like  enough.     I  will  persuade  him  to  tarry 


act  iv]         LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  129 

here;  he  shall  learn  to  know  Elina  well.  She  is  both 
fair  and  wise. — Ah,  if  he  should  one  day  come  before 
me,  with  hot  love  in  his  heart,  to  beg  for  her  hand! 
Then — to  chase  him  away  like  a  dog;  to  drive  him  off 
with  jibes  and  scorn;  to  make  it  known  over  all  the  land 
that  Nils  Lykke  had  come  a-wooing  to  Ostrat  in  vain — ! 
I  tell  you  I  would  give  ten  years  of  my  life  but  to  see 
that  day! 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

In  faith  and  truth,  Inger  Gyldenlove — is  this  your 
purpose  towards  him  ? 

Lady  Inger. 

This  and  nought  else,  as  sure  as  God  lives!  Trust 
me,  Olaf  Skaktavl,  I  mean  honestly  by  my  countrymen; 
but  I  am  in  nowise  my  own  mistress.  Things  there  be 
that  must  be  kept,  hidden,  or  'twere  my  death-blow. 
But  let  me  once  be  secure  on  that  side,  and  you  shall 
see  if  I  have  forgotten  the  oath  I  swore  by  Knut  Alf son's 
bier. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

[Shakes  her  by  the  hand.]  Thanks  for  those  words! 
I  am  loath  indeed  to  think  evil  of  you. — Yet,  touching 
your  design  towards  this  knight,  methinks  'tis  a  vent- 
uresome game  you  would  play.  What  if  you  had  mis- 
reekoned  ?  What  if  your  daughter —  ?  'Tis  said  no 
woman  can  stand  against  this  subtle  devil. 

Lady  Inger. 

My  daughter?  Think  you  that  she — ?  Nay,  have 
no  fear  of  that;  I  know  Elina  better.     All  she  has  heard 


130  LADY   INGER  OF   OSTRAT        [act  iv 

of  his  renown  has  but  made  her  hate  him  the  more. 
You  saw  with  your  own  eyes 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

Ay,  but — a  woman's  mind  is  shifting  ground  to  build 
on.     'Twere  best  you  looked  well  before  you. 

Lady  Inger. 

That  will  I,  be  sure;  I  will  watch  them  narrowly.  But 
even  were  he  to  succeed  in  luring  her  into  his  toils,  I 
have  but  to  whisper  two  words  in  her  ear,  and 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
What  then  ? 

Lady  Inger. 

She   will   shrink   from   him   as   though   he   came 

straight  from  the  foul  Tempter  himself. 

Hist,  Olaf  Skaktavl!  Here  he  comes.  Now  be  cau- 
tious. 

[Nils  Lykke  enters  by  the  foremost  door  on  the  right. 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Approaches  Lady  Inger  courteously.]  My  noble 
hostess  has  summoned  me. 

Lady  Inger. 

I  have  learned  through  my  daughter  that  you  are 
minded  to  leave  us  to-night. 

Nils  Lykke. 

Even  so,  to  my  sorrow; — since  my  business  at  Ostrat 
is  over. 


act  iv]        LADY   INGER  OF  OSTRAT  131 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
Not  before  I  have  the  papers. 

Nils  Lykke. 
True,   true.     I   had   well-nigh   forgot   the   weightiest 
part  of  my  errand.     'Twas  the  fault  of  our  noble  host- 
ess.    With  such  gracious  skill  did  she  keep  her  guests 

in  talk  at  table 

Lady  Inger. 
That  you  no  longer  remembered  what  had  brought 
you  hither?     I  rejoice  to  hear  it;  for  that  was  my  de- 
sign.    Methought  that  if  my  guest,  Nils  Lykke,  were  to 
feel  at  his  ease  in  Ostrat,  he  must  forget 

Nils  Lykke. 
What,  lady? 

Lady  Inger. 

First  of  all  his  errand— and  then  all  that  had  gone 

before  it. 

Nils  Lykke. 

[To  Olaf  Skaktavl,  as  lie  takes  out  the  packet  and 
hands  it  to  him.]  The  papers  from  Peter  Kanzler.  You 
will  find  in  them  a  full  account  of  our  partizans  in  Sweden. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

It  is  well. 

[Sits  down  by  tlie  table  on  the  left,  where  he  opens 
tlie  packet  and  examines  its  contents. 

Nils  Lykke. 
And  now,  Lady  Inger  Gyldcnlove,— I  know  not  that 
there  is  aught  else  for  me  to  do  here. 


132  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT        [act  iV 

Lady  Inger. 

Had  it  been  things  of  state  alone  that  brought  us 
together,  you  might  be  right.  But  I  should  be  loath 
to  think  so 

Nils  Lykke. 
You  would  say ? 

Lady  Inger. 

I  would  say  that  'twas  not  alone  as  a  Danish  Coun- 
cillor or  as  the  ally  of  Peter  Kanzler  that  Nils  Lykke 
came  to  be  my  guest. — Do  I  err  in  fancying  that  some- 
what you  may  have  heard  down  in  Denmark  may  have 
made  you  curious  to  know  more  of  the  Lady  of  Ostrat  ? 

Nils  Lykke. 
Far  be  it  from  me  to  deny 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
[Turning  over  the  papers.]     Strange.     No  letter. 

Nils  Lykke. 
Lady  Inger  Gyldenlove's  fame  is  all  too  widely 


spread  that  I  should  not  long  have  been  eager  to  see  her 
face  to  face. 

Lady  Inger. 

So  I  thought.  But  what,  then,  is  an  hour's  jesting 
talk  at  the  supper-table  ?  Let  us  try  to  sweep  away  all 
that  has  till  now  lain  between  us;  it  may  well  come  to 
pass  that  the  Nils  Lykke  I  know  may  wipe  out  the 
grudge  I  bore  the  one  I  knew  not.     Prolong  your  stay 


Ad  iv]        LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  133 

here  but  a  few  days,  Sir  Councillor!  I  dare  not  per- 
suade Olaf  Skaktavl  thereto,  since  his  secret  charge  in 
Sweden  calls  him  hence.  But  as  for  you,  doubtless  your 
sagacity  has  placed  all  things  beforehand  in  such  train 
that  your  presence  can  scarce  be  needed.  Trust  me, 
your  time  shall  not  pass  tediously  with  us;  at  least  you 
will  find  both  me  and  my  daughter  heartily  disposed  to 
do  all  in  our  power  to  pleasure  you. 

Nils  Lykke. 

I  doubt  neither  your  goodwill  towards  me  nor  your 
daughter's;  of  that  I  have  had  ample  proof.  And  I  trust 
you  will  not  doubt  that  my  presence  elsewhere  must  be 
vitally  needful,  since,  despite  of  all,  I  must  declare  my 
longer  stay  at  Ostrat  impossible. 

Lady  Inger. 

Is  it  even  so! — Know  you,  Sir  Councillor,  were  I 
evilly  minded,  I  might  fancy  you  had  come  to  Ostrat  to 
try  a  fall  with  me,  and  that,  having  lost,  you  cared  not 
to  linger  on  the  battle-field  among  the  witnesses  of  your 
defeat. 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Smiling.}  There  might  be  some  show  of  reason  for 
such  a  reading  of  the  case;  but  sure  it  is  that  as  yet  I 
hold  not  the  battle  lost. 

Lady  Inger. 

However  that  may  be,  it  might  at  any  rate  be  retrieved, 
if  you  would  tarry  some  days  with  us.  You  see  your- 
self, I  am  still  halting  and  wavering  at  the  parting  of  the 
ways, — persuading  my  redoubtable  assailant  not  to  quit 


134  LADY  INGER   OF   OSTRAT        [act  iv 

the  field. — Well,  to  speak  plainly,  the  thing  is  this:  your 
alliance  with  the  disaffected  in  Sweden  still  seems  to  me 
somewhat — how  shall  I  call  it? — somewhat  miraculous, 
Sir  Councillor!  I  tell  you  this  frankly,  dear  Sir!  The 
thought  that  has  moved  the  King's  Council  to  this  se- 
cret step  is  in  truth  most  politic;  but  'tis  strangely  at 
variance  with  the  deeds  of  certain  of  your  countrymen 
in  bygone  years.  Be  not  offended,  then,  if  my  trust  in 
your  fair  promises  needs  to  be  somewhat  strengthened 
ere  I  can  place  my  whole  welfare  in  your  hands. 

Nils  Lykke. 

A  longer  stay  at  Ostrat  would  scarce  help  towards 
that  end ;  since  I  purpose  not  to  make  any  further  effort 
to  shake  your  resolve. 

Lady  Inger. 

Then  must  I  pity  you  from  my  heart.  Ay,  Sir  Coun- 
cillor— 'tis  true  I  stand  here  an  unfriended  widow;  yet 
may  you  trust  my  word  when  I  foretell  that  this  visit  to 
Ostrat  will  strew  your  future  path  with  thorns. 

Nils  Lykke. 
[With  a  smile.]     Is  that  your  forecast,  Lady  Inger? 

Lady  Inger. 

Truly  it  is!  What  can  one  say,  dear  Sir?  'Tis  an 
age  of  tattling  tongues.  Many  a  scurril  knave  will  make 
jeering  rhymes  at  your  expense.  Ere  half  a  year  is  out, 
you  will  be  all  men's  fable;  people  will  stop  and  gaze 
after  you  on  the  high-roads;  'twill  be:  "Look,  look; 
there  rides  Sir  Nils  Lykke,  that  fared  north  to  Ostrat  to 


act  iv]       LADY   INGER  OF  OSTRAT  135 

trap  Inger  Gyldenlove,  and  was  caught  in  his  own  nets." 
— Softly,  softly,  Sir  Knight,  why  so  impatient !  'Tis  not 
that  /  think  so;  I  do  but  forecast  the  thoughts  of  the 
malicious  and  evil-minded;  and  of  them,  alas!  there  are 
many. — Ay,  'tis  shame;  but  so  it  is — you  will  reap  nought 
but  mockery — mockery,  because  a  woman  was  craftier 
than  you.  "Like  a  cunning  fox,"  men  will  say,  "he 
crept  into  Ostrat;  like  a  beaten  hound  he  slunk  away." 
— And  one  thing  more:  think  you  not  that  Peter  Kanz- 
ler  and  his  friends  will  forswear  your  alliance,  when  'tis 
known  that  /  venture  not  to  fight  under  a  standard  borne 
by  you  ? 

Nils  Lykke. 

You  speak  wisely,  lady!  Wherefore  to  secure  me 
from  mockery — and  not  to  endanger  the  alliance  with 
all  our  dear  friends  in  Sweden — I  must  needs 

Lady  Inger. 
[Hastily.]     prolong  your  stay  at  Ostrat. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
[WIio  has  been  listening.]     He  is  in  the  trap! 


Nils  Lykke. 


within  this  hour. 


Lady  Inger. 
But  what  if  you  should  fail  ? 

Nils  Lykke. 
I  shall    not   fail. 


136  LADY   INGER   OF  OSTRAT        [act  iv 

Lady  Inger. 
You  lack  not  confidence,  it  seems. 

Nils  Lykke. 

What  shall  be  the  wager  that  you  make  not  common 
cause  with  myself  and  Peter  Kanzler  ? 

Lady  Inger. 
Ostrat  Castle  against  your  knee-buckles! 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Slaps  his  breast  and  cries:]  Olaf  Skaktavl — here 
stands  the  master  of  Ostrat! 

Lady  Inger. 
Sir  Councillor ! 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
[Rises from  the  table.]     What  now? 

Nils  Lykke. 

[To  Lady  Inger.]  I  accept  not  the  wager;  for  in  a 
moment  you  will  gladly  give  Ostrat  Castle,  and  more  to 
boot,  to  be  freed  from  the  snare  wherein  not  I  but  you 
are  tangled. 

Lady  Inger. 
Your  jest,  Sir,  grows  a  vastly  merry  one. 

Nils  Lykke. 

'Twill  be  merrier  yet — at  least  for  me.  You  boast 
that  you  have  overreached  me.     You  threaten  to  heap 


act  iv]        LADY   INGER  OF   OSTRAT  137 

on  me  all  men's  scorn  and  mockery.  Ah,  beware  that 
you  stir  not  up  my  vengefulness;  for  with  two  words  I 
can  bring  you  to  your  knees  at  my  feet. 

Lady  Ingeb. 

Ha-ha !  [Stops  suddenly,  as  if  struck  by  a  fore- 
boding.] And  these  two  words,  Nils  Lykke  ? — these  two 
words ? 

Nils  Lykke. 
The  secret  of  Sten  Sture's  son  and  yours. 


Lady  Ingeb. 
[With  a  shriek.]     Oh,  God  in  heaven ! 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
Inger  Gyldenlove's  son !     What  say  you  ? 

Lady  Ingeb. 

[Half  kneeling  to  Nils  Lykke.]     Mercy!  oh,  be  mer- 
il ! 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Raises   her   up.]     Collect  yourself,   and    let   us   talk 
;ther  calmly. 

Lady  Ingeb. 

[Ill  a  low  voice,  as  though  bewildered.]     Did  you  hear 
t,  Olaf  Skaktavl?     Or  was  it  but  a  dream?     Heard 
>u  what  he  said  ? 

Nils  Lykke. 

It  was  no  dream,  Lady  Inger! 


138  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT        [act  iv 

Lady  Inger. 

[Clasping  her  ha,7ids.]  And  you  know  it!  You, — 
you ! — Where  is  he  then  ?  '  Where  have  you  got  him  ? 
What  would  you  do  with  him  ?  [Screams.]  Do  not 
kill  him,  Nils  Lykke!  Give  him  back  to  me!  Do  not 
kill  my  child! 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
Ah,  I  begin  to  understand 

Lady  Inger. 

And    this   fear — this   torturing    dread!     Through   all 

these  weary  years  it  has  been  ever  with  me and  then 

all  fails  at  last,  and  I  must  bear  this  agony! — Oh  Lord 
my  God,  is  it  right  of  thee  ?  Was  it  for  this  thou  gavest 
him  to  me  ? 

[Controls  herself  and  says  with  forced  composure: 

Nils  Lykke — tell  me  one  thing.  Where  have  you 
got  him  ?     Where  is  he  ? 

Nils  Lykke. 
With  his  foster-father. 

Lady  Inger. 

Still  with  his  foster-father.  Oh,  that  merciless 
man — !  For  ever  to  deny  me — .  But  it  must  not 
go  on  thus!     Help  me,  Olaf  Skaktavl! 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
I? 

Nils  Lykke. 
There  will  be  no  need,  if  only  you 


act  iv]        LADY   INGER  OF  OSTRAT  139 

Lady  Inger. 

Hearken,  Sir  Councillor!  What  you  know  you  shall 
know  thoroughly.  And  you  too,  my  old  and  faithful 
friend ! 

Listen  then.  To-night  you  bade  me  call  to  mind 
that  fatal  day  when  Knut  Alfson  was  slain  at  Oslo. 
You  bade  me  remember  the  promise  I  made  as  I  stood 
by  his  corpse  amid  the  bravest  men  in  Norway.  I  was 
scarce  full-grown  then;  but  I  felt  God's  strength  in  me, 
and  methought,  as  many  have  thought  since,  that  the 
Lord  himself  had  set  his  mark  on  me  and  chosen  me  to 
fight  in  the  forefront  for  my  country's  cause. 

Was  it  pride  of  heart?  Or  was  it  a  calling  from  on 
high?  That  I  have  never  clearly  known.  But  woe  to 
whoso  is  charged  with  a  mighty  task. 

For  seven  years  I  fear  not  to  say  that  I  kept  my  prom- 
ise faithfully.  I  stood  by  my  countrymen  in  all  their 
sufferings  and  their  need.  Playmates  of  mine,  all  over 
the  land,  were  wives  and  mothers  now.  I  alone  could 
give  ear  to  no  wooer — not  to  one.  That  you  know  best, 
Olaf  Skaktavl! 

Then  I  saw  Sten  Sture  for  the  first  time.  Fairer  man 
had  never  met  my  sight. 

Nils  Lykke. 

Ah,  now  it  grows  clear  to  me!  Sten  Sture  was  then 
in  Norway  on  a  secret  errand.  We  Danes  were  not  to 
know  that  he  wished  your  friends  well. 

Lady  Inger. 

In  the  guise  of  a  mean  serving-man  he  lived  a  whole 
winter  under  one  roof  with  me. 


140  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT        [act  iv 

That  winter  I  thought  less  and  less  of  the  country's 

weal. So  fair  a  man  had  I  never  seen — and  I  had 

lived  well-nigh  five-and-twenty  years. 

Next  autumn  Sten  Sture  came  once  more;  and  when 
he  departed  again  he  took  with  him,  in  all  secrecy,  a  little 
child.  'Twas  not  folks'  evil  tongues  I  feared;  but  our 
cause  would  have  suffered  had  it  got  abroad  that  Sten 
Sture  stood  so  near  to  me. 

The  child  was  given  to  Peter  Kanzler  to  rear.  I 
waited  for  better  times,  that  were  soon  to  come.  They 
never  came.  Sten  Sture  took  a  wife  two  years  later  in 
Sweden,  and,  when  he  died,  he  left  a  widow 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
And   with  her  a  lawful   heir  to   his  name  and 


,     rights. 

Lady  Inger. 

Time  after  time  I  wrote  to  Peter  Kanzler  beseeching 
him  to  give  me  back  my  child.  But  he  was  ever  deaf 
to  my  prayers.  "Cast  in  your  lot  with  us  once  for  all," 
he  said,  "and  I  send  your  son  back  to  Norway;  not  be- 
fore." But  'twas  even  that  I  dared  not  do.  We  of  the 
disaffected  party  were  then  ill  regarded  by  many  tim- 
orous folk  in  the  land.  Had  these  learnt  how  things 
stood — oh,  I  know  it! — to  cripple  the  mother  they  had 
gladly  meted  to  the  child  the  fate  that  would  have  been 
King  Christiern's  had  he  not  saved  himself  by  flight.1 

1  King  Christian  II.  of  Denmark  (the  perpetrator  of  the  massacre 
at  Stockholm  known  as  the  Blood-Bath)  fled  to  Holland  in  1523, 
five  years  before  the  date  assigned  to  this  play,  in  order  to  escape 
death  or  imprisonment  at  the  hands  of  his  rebellious  nobles,  who 
summoned  his  uncle,  Frederick  I.,  to  the  throne.  Returning  to 
Denmark  in  1532,  Christian  was  thrown  into  prison,  where  he  spent 
the  last  twenty-seven  years  of  his  life. 


act  iv]        LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  141 

But.  besides  that,  the  Danes,  too,  were  active.  They 
spared  neither  threats  nor  promises  to  force  me  to  join 
them. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

'Twas  but  reason.  The  eyes  of  all  men  were  fixed 
on  you  as  on  the  vane  that  should  show  them  how  to 
shape  their  course. 

Lady  Inger. 

Then  came  Herlof  Hyttefad's  rising.  Do  you  remem- 
ber that  time,  Olaf  Skaktavl  ?  Was  it  not  as  though  a 
new  spring  had  dawned  over  the  whole  land!  Mighty 
voices  summoned  me  to  come  forth; — yet  I  dared  not.  I 
stood  doubting — far  from  the  strife — in  my  lonely  castle. 
At  times  it  seemed  as  though  the  Lord  God  himself  were 
calling  me;  but  then  would  come  the  killing  dread  again 
to  benumb  my  will.  "Who  will  win?" — that  was 
the  question  that  was  ever  ringing  in  my  ears. 

'Twas  but  a  short  spring  that  had  come  to  Norway. 
Herlof  Hyttefad,  and  many  more  with  him,  were  broken 
on  the  wheel  during  the  months  that  followed.  None 
could  call  me  to  account;  yet  there  lacked  not  covert 
threats  from  Denmark.  What  if  they  knew  the  secret  ? 
At  last  methought  they  must  know;  I  knew  not  how 
else  to  understand  their  words. 

'Twas  even  in  that  time  of  agony  that  Gyldenlove, 
the  High  Steward,  came  hither  and  sought  me  in  mar- 
riage. Let  any  mother  anguished  for  her  child  think 
herself  in  my  place! — A  month  after,  I  was  the  High 
Steward's  wife — and  homeless  in  the  hearts  of  my  coun- 
trymen. 

Then  came  the  quiet  years.  No  one  raised  his  head 
any  more.     Our  masters  might  grind  us  down  even  as 


142  LADY   INGER  OF   OSTRAT        [act  iv 

heavily  as  they  listed.  There  were  times  when  I  loathed 
myself;  for  what  had  I  to  do?  Nought  but  to  endure 
terror  and  scorn  and  bring  forth  daughters  into  the  world. 
My  daughters!  God  must  forgive  me  if  I  have  had  no 
mother's  heart  towards  them.  My  wifely  duties  were 
as  serfdom  to  me;  how  then  could  I  love  my  daughters? 
Oh,  how  different  with  my  son!  He  was  the  child  of 
my  very  soul.  He  was  the  one  thing  that  brought  to 
mind  the  time  when  I  was  a  woman  and  nought  but  a 
woman. — And  him  they  had  taken  from  me!  He  was 
growing  up  among  strangers,  who  might,  mayhap,  be 
sowing  in  him  the  seed  of  corruption!  Olaf  Skaktavl 
— had  I  wandered,  like  you,  on  the  lonely  hills,  hunted 
and  forsaken,  in  winter  and  storm — if  I  had  but  held  my 
child  in  my  arms, — trust  me,  I  had  not  sorrowed  and 
wept  so  sore  as  I  have  sorrowed  and  wept  for  him  from 
his  birth  even  to  this  hour! 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

There  is  my  hand.  I  have  judged  you  too  hardly, 
Lady  Inger!  Command  me  even  as  before;  I  will  obey. 
^Ay,  by  all  the  saints,  I  know  what  it  is  to  sorrow  for 
a  child. 

Lady  Inger. 

Yours  was  slain  by  men  of  blood.  But  what  is  death 
to  the  restless  terror  of  all  these  long  years? 

Nils  Lykke. 

Mark,  then — 'tis  in  your  power  to  end  this  terror. 
You  have  but  to  make  peace  between  the  jarring  fac- 
tions, and  neither  will  think  of  seizing  on  your  child  as 
a  pledge  of  your  faith. 


act  iv]        LADY   INGER  OF  OSTRAT  143 

Lady  Inger. 

[To  herself.]  This  is  the  vengeance  of  Heaven. 
[Looks  at  him.]     In  one  word,  what  do  you  demand  ? 

Nils  Lykke. 

I  demand  first  that  you  shall  call  the  people  of  the 
northern  districts  to  arms,  in  support  of  the  disaffected 
in  Sweden. 

Lady  Inger. 
And  next ? 

Nils  Lykke. 

that  you  do  your  best  to  advance  young  Count 

Sture's  ancestral  claim  to  the  throne  of  Sweden. 

Lady  Inger. 
His?     You  demand  that  I 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

[Softly.]  It  is  the  wish  of  many  Swedes,  and  'twould 
serve  our  turn  too. 

Nils  Lykke. 

You  hesitate,  lady?  You  tremble  for  your  son's 
safety.  What  better  can  you  wish  than  to  see  his  half- 
brother  on  the  throne  ? 

Lady  Inger. 

[In  tliought.]     True — true 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Looks  at  Iter  sJiarply.]     Unless  there  be  other  plans 
foot 


144  LADY  INGER   OF   OSTRAT        [act  iv 

Lady  Inger. 
What  mean  you  ? 

Nils  Lykke. 

Inger  Gyldenlove  might  have  a  mind  to  be — a  king's 
mother. 

Lady  Inger. 

No,  no!  Give  me  back  my  child,  and  let  who  will 
have  the  crowns. 

But  know  you  so  surely  that  Count  Sture  is  wil- 
ling  ? 

Nils  Lykke. 
Of  that  he  will  himself  assure  you. 

Lady  Inger. 
Himself  ?     And  when  ? 

Nils  Lykke. 
/   Even  now. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
How  now  ? 

Lady  Inger. 
What  say  you  ? 

Nils  Lykke. 
In  one  word,  Count  Sture  is  in  Ostrat. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
Here? 


act  iv]        LADY   INGER   OF  OSTRAT  145 

Nils  Lykke. 

[To  Lady  Inger.]  You  have  doubtless  heard  that 
another  rode  through  the  gate  along  with  me?  The 
Count  was  my  attendant. 

Lady  Inger. 

[Softly.]  I  am  in  his  power.  I  have  no  longer  any 
choice.  [Looks  at  him  and  says:]  'Tis  well,  Sir  Coun- 
cillor— you  shall  have  full  assurance  of  my  support. 

Nils  Lykke. 
In  writing? 

Lady  Inger. 
As  you  will. 

[Goes  to  the  table  on  the  left,  sits  down,  and  takes  writ- 
ing materials  from  the  drawer. 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Aside,  standing  by  the  table  on  the  right.]  At  last, 
then,  I  win! 

Lady  Inger. 

[After  a  momenVs  tlwught,  turns  suddenly  in  her  chair 
to  Olaf  Skaktavl  and  whispers.]  Olaf  Skaktavl — I 
am  certain  of  it  now — Nils  Lykke  is  a  traitor! 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
[Softly.]     What?    You  think ? 

Lady  Inger. 

He  has  treachery  in  his  heart. 

[Lays  the  paper  before  her  and  dips  the  pen  in  the  ink. 


146  LADY   INGER   OF  OSTRAT        [act  iv 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

And  yet  you  would  give  him  a  written  promise  that 
may  be  your  ruin  ? 

Lady  Inger. 

Hush;  leave  me  to  act.     Nay,  wait  and  listen  first 

[Talks  with  him  in  a  whisper. 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Softly,  watching  them.]  Ah,  take  counsel  together  as 
much  as  ye  list!  All  danger  is  over  now.  With  her 
written  consent  in  my  pocket,  I  can  denounce  her  when- 
ever I  please.  A  secret  message  to  Jens  Bielke  this  very 
night — .  I  tell  him  but  the  truth — that  the  young  Count 
Sture  is  not  at  Ostrat.  And  then  to-morrow,  when  the 
road  is  open — to  Trondhiem  with  my  young  friend,  and 
thence  by  ship  to  Copenhagen  with  him  as  my  pris- 
oner. Once  we  have  him  safe  in  the  castle-tower,  we 
can  dictate  to  Lady  Inger  what  terms  we  will.  And 
I —  ?  After  this,  methinks,  the  King  will  scarce  place  the 
French  mission  in  other  hands  than  mine. 

Lady  Inger. 

[Still  whispering  to  Olaf  Skaktavl.]  Well,  you  un- 
derstand me? 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

Ay,  fully.     Let  us  make  the  venture,  even  as  you  will. 

[Goes  out  by  the  back,  to  tlte  right. 

[Nils  Stensson  comes  in  by  the  first  door  on  the  right, 

unseen  by  Lady  Inger,  who  has  begun  to  write. 

Nils  Stensson. 
[In  a  low  voice.]     Sir  Knight, — Sir  Knight!. 


act  iv]        LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  147 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Moves  towards  him.]  Rash  boy!  What  would  you 
here  ?  Said  I  not  you  should  wait  within  until  I  called 
you? 

Nils  Stensson. 

How  could  I  ?  Now  you  have  told  me  that  Inger 
Gyldenlove  is  my  mother,  I  thirst  more  than  ever  to  see 
her  face  to  face 

Oh,  it  is  she!  How  proud  and  high  her  mien!  Even 
thus  did  I  ever  picture  her.  Fear  not,  dear  Sir, — I  shall 
do  nought  rashly.  Since  I  have  learnt  this  secret,  I  feel, 
as  it  were,  older  and  wiser.  I  will  no  longer  be  wild 
and  heedless;  I  will  be  even  as  other  well-born  youths. — 
Tell  me, — knows  she  that  I  am  here  ?  Surely  you  have 
prepared  her? 

Nils  Lykke. 
Ay,  sure  enough;  but 

Nils  Stensson. 
Well? 

Nils  Lykke. 
She  will  not  own  you  for  her  son. 


Nils  Stensson. 

Will  not  own  me  ?  But  she  i  s  my  mother. — Oh,  if 
it  be  that  she  doubts  t  h  a  t — [takes  out  a  ring  which  he 
wears  on  a  cord  round  his  neck] — show  her  this  ring.  I 
have  worn  it  since  my  earliest  childhood ;  she  must  surely 
know  its  history. 


148  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT        [act  iv 

Nils  Lykke. 

Hide  the  ring,  man!     Hide  it,  I  say! 

You  mistake  me.  Lady  Inger  doubts  not  at  all  that 
vou  are  her  child;  but — ay,  look  about  you;  look  at  all 
this  wealth;  look  at  these  mighty  forefathers  and  kins- 
men whose  pictures  deck  the  walls  both  high  and  low; 
look  lastly  at  herself,  the  haughty  dame,  used  to  bear 
sway  as  the  first  noblewoman  in  the  kingdom.  Think 
you  it  can  be  to  her  mind  to  take  a  poor  ignorant  youth  by 
the  hand  before  all  men's  eyes  and  say:  Behold  my  son! 

Nils  Stensson. 

Ay,  doubtless  you  are  right.  I  am  poor  and  ignorant. 
I  have  nought  to  offer  her  in  return  for  what  I  crave. 
Oh,  never  have  I  felt  my  poverty  weigh  on  me  till  this 
hour!  But  tell  me — what  think  you  I  should  do  to  win 
her  favour?     Tell  me,  dear  Sir;  sure  you  must  know! 

Nils  Lykke. 

You  must  win  your  father's  kingdom.  But  until  that 
may  be,  look  well  that  you  wound  not  her  ears  by  hint- 
ing at  kinship  or  the  like.  She  will  bear  her  as  though 
she  believed  you  to  be  the  real  Count  Sture,  until  you 
have  made  yourself  worthy  to  be  called  her  son. 


Oh,  but  tell  me- 
Hush:  hush! 


Nils  Stensson. 

t 


Nils  Lykke. 


Lady  Inger. 

[Rises  and  hands  him  a  paper.]     Sir  Knight — here  is 
my  promise. 


act  iv]        LADY   INGER   OF  OSTRAT  149 

Nils  Lykke. 
I  thank  you. 

Lady  Inger. 

[Notices  Nils  Stensson.]  Ah,  —  this  young  man 
is ? 

Nils  Lykke. 
Ay,  Lady  Inger,  he  is  Count  Sture. 

Lady  Inger. 

[Aside,  looks  at  him  stealthily.]  Feature  for  feature; 
—ay,  by  God, — it  is  Sten  Sture's  son! 

[Approaches  him  and  says  with  cold  courtesy: 

I  bid  you  welcome  under  my  roof,  Count!  It  rests 
with  you  whether  or  not  we  shall  bless  this  meeting  a 
year  hence. 

Nils  Stensson. 

With  me?  Oh,  do  but  tell  me  what  I  must  do! 
Trust  me,  I  have  both  courage  and  will 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Listens  uneasily.]  What  is  this  noise  and  uproar, 
Lady  Inger?  There  are  people  pressing  hitherward. 
What  does  this  mean  ? 

Lady  Inger. 

[In  a  loud  voice.]     'Tis  the  spirits  awaking! 

[Olaf  Skaktavl,  Einar  Huk,  Biorn,  Finn,  and  a 
number  of  Peasants  and  Retainers  come  in  from 
the  back,  on  the  right. 

The  Peasants  and  Retainers. 
Hail  to  Lady  Inger  Gyldenlove! 


150  LADY   INGER  OF  OSTRAT        [act  iv 

Lady  Inger. 

[To  Olaf  Skaktavl.]  Have  you  told  them  what  is 
afoot  ? 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

I  have  told  them  all  they  need  to  know. 

Lady  Inger. 

[To  the  Crowd.]  Ay,  now,  my  faithful  house-folk 
and  peasants,  now  must  ye  arm  you  as  best  you  can 
and  will.  That  which  earlier  to-night  I  forbade  you,  ye 
have  now  my  fullest  leave  to  do.  And  here  I  present  to 
you  the  young  Count  Sture,  the  coming  ruler  of  Sweden 
— and  Norway  too,  if  God  will  it  so. 

The  Whole  Crowd. 

Hail  to  him!     Hail  to  Count  Sture! 

[General  excitement.  Tlie  Peasants  and  Retain- 
ers choose  out  weapons  and  put  on  breastplates  and 
helmets,  amid  great  noise. 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Softly  and  uneasily.]  The  spirits  awaking,  she  said  ? 
I  but  feigned  to  conjure  up  the  devil  of  revolt — 'twere  a 
cursed  spite  if  he  got  the  upper  hand  of  us. 

Lady  Inger. 

[To  Nils  Stensson.]  Here  I  give  you  the  first  earn- 
est of  our  service — thirty  mounted  men,  to  follow  you 
as  a  bodyguard.  Trust  me — ere  you  reach  the  fron- 
tier many  hundreds  will  have  ranged  themselves  under 
my  banner  and  yours.     Go,  then,  and  God  be  with  you! 


at  iv]        LADY   INGER   OF  OSTRAT  151 

Nils  Stensson. 

Thanks,— Inger  Gyldenlove!  Thanks— and  be  sure 
you  shall  never  have  cause  to  shame  you  for — for  Count 
Sture !  I  f  you  see  me  again,  I  shall  have  won  my  father's 
kingdom. 

Nils  Lykke. 
[To  himself.]     Ay,  if  she  see  you  again! 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
The  horses  wait,  good  fellows !     Are  ye  ready ? 

The  Peasants. 
Ay,  ay,  ay! 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Uneasily,  to  Lady  Inger.]     What?     You  mean  not 
to-night,  even  now ? 

Lady  Inger. 
This  very  moment,  Sir  Knight! 

Nils  Lykke. 
Nay,  nay,  impossible! 

Lady  Inger. 

[  have  said  it. 

Nils  Lykke. 
[Softly,  to  Nils  Stensson.]     Obey  her  not! 

Nils  Stensson. 
low  can  I  do  aught  else ?     I   will;    I   must! 


152  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT        [act  iv 

Nils  Lykke. 
But  'tis  your  certain  ruin- 

Nils  Stensson. 
What  then !     Her   must  I  obey  in  all  things 

Nils  Lykke. 
[With  authority.]     And  me? 

Nils  Stensson. 

I  shall  keep  my  word;  be  sure  of  that.  The  secret 
shall  not  pass  my  lips  till  you  yourself  release  me.  But 
she  is  my  mother! 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Aside.]  And  Jens  Bielke  in  wait  on  the  road!  Dam- 
nation!    He  will  snatch  the  prize  out  of  my  fingers 

[To  Lady  Inger.]     Wait  till  to-morrow! 

Lady  Inger. 

[To  Nils  Stensson.]  Count  Sture — do  you  obey  me 
or  not? 

Nils  Stensson. 

To  horse!  [Goes  up  towards  the  background. 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Aside.]     Unhappy  boy!     He  knows  not  what  he  does. 

[To  Lady  Inger. 
Well,  since  so  it  must  be, — farewell! 

[Bows  hastily,  and  begins  to  move  away. 


act  iv]       LADY  INGER  OF  OSTRAT  153 

Lady  Inger. 

[Detains   him.]     Nay,   stay!     Not   so,   Sir   Knight,— 
not  so! 

Nils  Lykke. 
What  mean  you  ? 

Lady  Inger. 

[In  a  low  voice.]  Nils  Lykke— you  are  a  traitor! 
Hush!  Let  no  one  see  there  is  discord  in  the  camp  of 
the  leaders.  You  have  won  Peter  Kanzler's  trust  by 
some  devilish  wile  that  as  yet  is  dark  to  me.  You  have 
forced  me  to  rebellious  acts— not  to  help  our  cause,  but 
to  further  your  own  plots,  whatever  they  may  be.  I 
can  draw  back  no  more.  But  think  not  therefore  that 
you  have  conquered!  I  shall  know  how  to  make  you 
harmless 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Lays  his  hand  involuntarily  on  his  sword.]     Lady 

Inger! 

Lady  Inger. 

Be  calm,  Sir  Councillor!     Your  life  is  safe.     But  you 
■ne  not  outside  the  gates  of  Ostrat  before  victory  is 


001 

ours 


Nils  Lykke. 
Death  and  destruction! 

Lady  Inger. 


It  boots  not  to  resist.     You  come  not  from  this  place, 
so  rest  you  quiet;   'tis  your  wisest  course. 


154  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT        [act  iv 

Nils  Lykke. 

[To  himself.]  Ah, — I  am  overreached.  She  has  been 
craftier  than  I.    [A  thought  strikes  him.]    But  if  I  yet ? 

Lady  Inger. 

[To  Olaf  Skaktavl.]  Ride  with  Count  Sture's 
troops  to  the  frontier;  then  without  pause  to  Peter 
Kanzler,  and  bring  me  back  my  child.  Now  has  he  no 
longer  any  plea  for  keeping  from  me  what  is  my  own. 

[Adds,  as  Olaf  Skaktavl  is  going: 

Wait;  a  token — .  He  that  wears  Sten  Sture's  ring, 
he  is  my  son. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

By  all  the  saints,  you  shall  have  him! 

Lady  Inger. 
Thanks, — thanks,  my  faithful  friend! 

Nils  Lykke. 

[To  Finn,  whom  he  has  beckoned  to  him  unobserved, 
and  with  whom  he  has  been  whispering.]  Good — now 
contrive  to  slip  out.  Let  none  see  you.  The  Swedes 
are  in  ambush  half  a  league  hence.  Tell  the  commander 
that  Count  Sture  is  dead.  The  young  man  you  see  there 
must  on  no  account  be  touched.  Tell  the  commander 
so.     Tell  him  the  boy's  life  is  worth  thousands  to  me. 

Finn. 
It  shall  be  done. 

Lady  Inger. 

[Who  has  meanwhile  been  watching  Nils  Lykke.] 
And  now  go,  all  of  you,  and  God  be  with  you!     [Points 


act  iv]        LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  155" 

to  Nils  Lykke.]  This  noble  knight  cannot  find  it  in  his 
heart  to  leave  his  friends  at  Ostrat  so  hastily.  He  will 
abide  here  with  me  till  the  tidings  of  your  victory  arrive. 

Nils  Lykke. 
[To  himself.]     Devil! 

Nils  Stensson.  *    • 

[Seizes  his  hand.]  Trust  me— you  shall  not  have  long 
to  wait! 

Nils  Lykke. 

It  is  well;  it  is  well!  [Aside.]  All  may  yet  be  saved. 
If  only  my  message  reach  Jens  Bielke  in  time 

Lady  Ingeb. 

[To  Einar  Huk,  tJw  bailiff,  pointing  to  Finn.]  And 
let  that  man  be  placed  under  close  guard  in  the  castle 
dungeon. 

Finn. 
Me? 

The  Bailiff  and  the  Servants. 
Finn!  ! 

Nils  Lykke. 
[Aside.]     My  last  anchor  gone! 

Lady  Inger. 

[Imperatively.]     To  the  dungeon  with  him! 

[Einar   Huk,  Biorn,  and  a  couple  of  the   house- 
servants  lead  Finn  out  to  the  left. 


156  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT        [act  iv 

All  the  Rest. 

[Except  Nils  Lykke,  rushing  out  to  the  right.]  Away! 
To  horse, — to  horse !     Hail  to  Lady  Inger  Gyldenlove ! 

Lady  Inger. 

[Passing  close  to  Nils  Lykke  as  she  goes  out  after  the 
others.]     Who  wins  ? 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Remains  alone.]  Who?  Ay,  woe  to  you; — your  vic- 
tory will  cost  you  dear.  /  wash  my  hands  of  it.  'Tis 
not  /  that  am  murdering  him. 

But  my  prey  is  escaping  me  none  the  less;  and  the 
revolt  will  grow  and  spread! — Ah,  'tis  a  foolhardy,  a 
frantic  game  I  have  here  taken  in  hand !  [Listens  at  the 
ivindmv.]  There  they  ride  clattering  out  through  the 
gateway. — Now  'tis  closed  after  them — and  I  am  left  here 
a  prisoner. 

No  way  of  escape!  Within  half-an^hour  the  Swedes 
will  be  upon  him.  He  has  thirty  well-armed  horsemen 
with  him.     'Twill  be  life  or  death. 

But  if,  after  all,  they  should  take  him  alive  ? — Were  I 
but  free,  I  could  overtake  the  Swedes  ere  they  reach  the 
frontier,  and  make  them  deliver  him  up.  [Goes  towards 
the  window  in  the  background  and  looks  out.]  Damna- 
tion! Guards  outside  on  every  hand.  Can  there  be  no 
way  of  escape  ? 

[Comes  quickly  forward  again;    suddenly  stops  and 
listens. 

What  is  that  ?  Music  and  singing.  It  seems  to  come 
from  Elina's  chamber.  Ay,  'tis  she  that  is  singing. 
Then  she  is  still  awake [A  thought  seems  to  strike 


I 


act  iv]        LADY  INGER   OF   OSTRAT  157 

him.]  Elina!— Ah,  if  that  could  be!  Were  it  possi- 
ble to—  And  why  should  I  not  ?  Am  I  not  still  my- 
self ?     Says  not  the  song: — 

Fair  maidens  a-many  they  sigh  and  they  pine : 
"Ah  God,  that  Nils  Lykke  were  mine,  mine,  mine." 

And  she—? Elina  Gyldenlove  shall  set  me  free! 

[Goes  quickly  but  stealthily  towards  the  first  door  on 
the  left. 


ACT  FIFTH 

The  Banquet  Hall.  It  is  still  night.  The  hall  is  but 
dimly  lighted  by  a  branch-candlestick  on  the  table,  in 
front,  on  the  right. 

Lady  Inger  is  sitting  by  the  table,  deep  in  thought. 

Lady  Inger. 

[After  a  pause.]  They  call  me  keen-wilted  beyond  all 
others  in  the  land.  I  believe  they  are  right.  The  keen- 
est-witted —  No  one  knows  how  I  became  so.  For 
more  than  twenty  years  I  have  fought  to  save  my  child. 
That  is  the  key  to  the  riddle.  Ay,  that  sharpens  the 
wits! 

My  wits?  Where  have  they  flown  to-night?  What 
has  become  of  my  forethought  ?  There  is  a  ringing  and 
rushing  in  my  ears.  I  see  shapes  before  me,  so  lifelike 
that  methinks  I  could  lay  hold  on  them.  [Springs  up.] 
Lord  Jesus — what  is  this?     Am  I  no  longer  mistress  of 

my  reason  ?     Is  it  to  come  to  that ?     [Presses  lier 

clasped  hands  over  her  head;  sits  down  again,  and  says 
more  calmly:]  Nay,  'tis  nought.  'Twill  pass.  There  is 
no  fear; — it  will  pass. 

How  peaceful  it  is  in  the  hall  to-night!  No  threaten- 
ing looks  from  forefathers  or  kinsfolk.  No  need  to  turn 
their  faces  to  the  wall.  [Rises  again.]  Ay,  'twas  well 
that  I  took  heart  at  last.  We  shall  conquer; — and  then 
am  I  at  the  goal  of  all  my  longings.     I  shall  have  my 

158 


act  v]         LADY   INGER   OF  OSTRAT  159 

child  again.  [Takes  up  the  light  as  if  to  go,  but  stops 
and  says  musingly:]  At  the  goal  ?  The  goal  ?  To  have 
him  back  ?  Is  that  all  ?— is  there  nought  further  ?  [Sets 
t\te  light  down  on  the  table.]  That  heedless  word  that  Nils 
Lykke  threw  forth  at  random — .  How  could  he  see  my 
unborn  thought  ?  [More  softly. 

A  king's  mother?  A  king's  mother,  he  said —  And 
why  not  ?  Have  not  my  fathers  before  me  ruled  as  kings, 
even  though  they  bore  not  the  kingly  name  ?  Has  not 
my  son  as  good  a  title  as  the  other  to  the  rights  of  the 
house  of  Sture?  In  the  sight  of  God  he  has — if  so  be 
there  is  justice  in  Heaven. 

And  in  an  hour  of  terror  I  have  signed  away  his  rights. 
I  have  recklessly  squandered  them,  as  a  ransom  for  his 
freedom. 

If  they  could  be  recovered  ? — Would  Heaven  be 
angered,  if  I — ?  Would  it  call  down  fresh  troubles  on 
my  head  if  I  were  to —  ?  Who  knows; — who  knows!  It 
may  be  safest  to  refrain.  [Takes  up  the  light  again.]  I 
shall  have  my  child  again.  That  must  content  me.  I 
will  try  to  rest.  All  these  desperate  thoughts, — I  will 
sleep  them  away. 

[Goes  towards  the  back,  but  stops  in  the  middle  of  the 
hall,  and  says  broodingly .* 
A  king's  mother! 

[Goes  slowly  out  at  the  back,  to  the  left. 
[After    a    short   pause,    Nils    Lykke    and    Elina 
Gyldenlove  enter  noiselessly  by  the  first  door  on 
the  left.     Nils  Lykke  has  a  small  lantern  in  his 
hand. 

Nils  Lykke. 

Throws  the  light  from  his  lantern  around,  so  as  to 
search  tfie  room.]     All  is  still.     I  must  begone. 


160  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT         [act  v 

EUNA. 

Oh,  let  me  look  but  once  more  into  your  eyes,  before 
you  leave  me. 

Nils  Lykke. 
[Embraces  her.]     Elina! 

Elina. 

[After  a  slwrt  pause.]  Will  you  come  nevermore  to 
Ostrat  ? 

Nils  Lykke. 

How  can  you  doubt  that  I  will  come  ?  Are  you  not 
henceforth  my  betrothed  ? — But  will  you  be  true  to 
m  e ,  Elina  ?    Will  you  not  forget  me  ere  we  meet  again  ? 

Elina. 

Do  you  ask  if  I  will  be  true  ?  Have  I  any  will  left 
then?  Have  I  power  to  be  untrue  to  you,  even  if  I 
would  ? — You  came  by  night;  you  knocked  upon  my  door; 
— and  I  opened  to  you.  You  spoke  to  me.  What  was  it 
you  said  ?  You  gazed  in  my  eyes.  What  was  the  mys- 
tic might  that  turned  my  brain,  and  lured  me  as  into  a 
magic  net?  [Hides  her  face  on  his  shoulder.]  Oh,  look 
not  on  me,  Nils  Lykke!  You  must  not  look  upon  me 
after  this —  True,  say  you  ?  Do  you  not  own  me  ?  I 
am  yours; — I   must   be  yours — to  all  eternity. 

Nils  Lykke. 

Now,  by  my  knightly  honour,  ere  the  year  be  past,  you 
shall  sit  as  my  wife  in  the  hall  of  my  fathers! 


act  v]         LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  161 

Elina. 
No  vows,  Nils  Lykke!     No  oaths  to  me. 

Nils  Lykke. 

What  ails  you  ?  Why  do  you  shake  your  head  so 
mournfully  ? 

Elina. 

Because  I  know  that  the  same  soft  words  wherewith 
you  turned  my  brain,  you  have  whispered  to  so  many  a 
one  before.  Nay,  nay,  be  not  angry,  my  beloved!  In 
nowise  do  I  reproach  you,  as  I  did  while  yet  I  knew 
you  not.  Now  I  understand  how  high  above  all  others 
is  your  goal.  How  can  love  be  aught  to  y  o  u  but  a 
pastime,  or  woman  but  a  toy  ? 

Nils  Lykke. 
Elina, — hear  me! 

Elina. 

As  I  grew  up,  your  name  was  ever  in  my  cars.  I 
ited  the  name,  for  meseemed  that  all  women  were  dis- 
honoured by  your  life.  And  yet, — how  strange! — when 
I  built  up  in  my  dreams  the  life  that  should  be  mine, 
you  were  ever  my  hero,  though  I  knew  it  not.  Now  I 
understand  it  all.  What  was  it  that  I  felt?  It  was  a 
foreboding,  a  mysterious  longing  for  you,  you  only  one 
— for  you  that  were  one  day  to  come  and  reveal  to  me 
all  the  glory  of  life. 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Aside,  putting  down  tlie  lantern  on  the  table!]  How  is 
it  with  me  ?     This  dizzy  fascination — .     If  this  it  be  to 


162  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT         [act  v 

love,  then  have  I  never  known  it  till  this  hour. — Is  there 
not  yet  time —  ?     Oh  horror — Lucia ! 

\SinJcs  into  the  cftair. 

Elina. 

What  is  amiss  with  you  ?     So  heavy  a  sigh 


Nils  Lykke. 

O,  'tis  nought, — nought! 

Elina, — now  will  I  confess  all  to  you.  I  have  beguiled 
many  with  both  words  and  glances;  I  have  said  to  many 
a  one  what  I  whispered  to  you  this  night.  But  trust 
me 

Elina. 

Hush!  No  more  of  that.  My  love  is  no  exchange  for 
that  you  give  me.  No,  no;  I  love  you  because  your 
every  glance  commands  it  like  a  king's  decree.  [Lies 
down  at  his  feet.]  Oh,  let  me  once  more  stamp  that 
kingly  mandate  deep  into  my  soul,  though  well  I  know 
it  stands  imprinted  there  for  all  time  and  eternity. 

Dear  God — how  little  I  have  known  myself!  'Twas 
but  to-night  I  said  to  my  mother:  "My  pride  is  my  life." 
And  what  is  now  my  pride  ?  Is  it  to  know  my  country- 
men free,  or  my  house  held  in  honour  throughout  many 
lands?  Oh,  no,  no!  My  love  is  my  pride.  The  little 
dog  is  proud  when  he  may  sit  by  his  master's  feet  and 
eat  bread-crumbs  from  his  hand.  Even  so  am  I  proud, 
so  long  as  I  may  sit  at  your  feet,  while  your  looks  and 
your  words  nourish  me  with  the  bread  of  life.  See, 
therefore,  I  say  to  you,  even  as  I  said  but  now  to  my 
mother:  "My  love  is  my  life;"  for  therein  lies  all  my 
pride,  now  and  evermore. 


act  v]         LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  163 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Raises  Iter  up  on  his  lap.]  Nay,  nay — not  at  my  feet, 
but  at  my  side  is  your  place, — how  high  soever  fate  may 
exalt  me.  Ay,  Elina — you  have  led  me  into  a  better 
path;  and  should  it  one  day  be  granted  me  to  atone  by 
a  deed  of  fame  for  the  sins  of  my  reckless  youth,  then 
shall  the  honour  be  yours  and  mine  together. 

Elina. 

Ah,  you  speak  as  though  I  were  still  that  Elina  who 
but  this  evening  flung  down  the  flowers  at  your  feet. 

I  have  read  in  my  books  of  the  many-coloured  life  in 
far-off  lands.  To  the  winding  of  horns,  the  knight  rides 
forth  into  the  greenwood,  with  his  falcon  on  his  wrist. 
Even  so  do  you  go  your  way  through  life; — your  name 
rings  out  before  you  whithersoever  you  fare. — All  that 
/  desire  of  the  glory,  is  to  rest  like  the  falcon  on  your 
arm.  Like  him  was  I,  too,  blind  to  light  and  life,  till 
you  loosed  the  hood  from  my  eyes  and  set  me  soaring 
high  over  the  tree-tops. — But  trust  me — bold  as  my 
flight  may  be,  yet  shall  I  ever  turn  back  to  my  cage. 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Rises.]  Then  will  I  bid  defiance  to  the  past!  See 
now; — take  this  ring,  and  be  mine  before  God  and 
men — m  i  n  e  , — ay,  though  it  should  trouble  the  dreams 
of  the  dead. 

Elina. 

You  make  me  tremble.     What  is  it  that ? 

Nils  Lykke. 

'Tis  nought.  Come,  let  me  place  the  ring  on  your 
finger. — Even  so — now  are  you  my  betrothed! 


164  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT         [act  v 

Elina. 

/  Nils  Lykke's  bride!  It  seems  but  a  dream,  all  that 
has  befallen  this  night.  Oh,  but  so  fair  a  dream!  My 
breast  is  so  light.  No  longer  is  there  bitterness  and 
hatred  in  my  soul.  I  will  atone  to  all  whom  I  have 
wronged.  I  have  been  unloving  to  my  mother.  To- 
morrow will  I  go  to  her;  she  must  forgive  me  where  I 
have  erred. 

Nils  Lykke. 

And  give  her  consent  to  our  bond. 

Elina. 

That  will  she.  Oh,  I  am  sure  she  will.  My  mother  is 
kind ;  all  the  world  is  kind ; — I  can  no  longer  feel  hatred 
for  any  living  soul — save  one. 

Nils  Lykke. 
Save   one? 

Elina. 

Ah,  'tis  a  mournful  history.     I  had  a  sister — — 

Nils  Lykke. 
Lucia  ? 

Elina. 

Did  you  know  Lucia  ? 

Nils  Lykke. 
No,  no;   I  have  but  heard  her  name. 

Elina. 

She  too  gave  her  heart  to  a  knight.  He  betrayed  her; 
— now  she  is  in  Heaven. 


act  v]         LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  165 

Nils  Lykke. 


And  you- 


I  hate  him. 


Elina. 


Nils  Lykke. 


Hate  him  not!  If  there  be  mercy  in  your  heart,  for- 
give him  his  sin.  Trust  me,  he  bears  his  punishment  in 
his  own  breast. 

Elina. 

Him  will  I  never  forgive!  I  cannot,  even  if  I 
would;  for  I  have  sworn  so  dear  an  oath [Listen- 
ing.]    Hush!     Can  you  hear ? 

Nils  Lykke. 
What  ?     Where  ? 

Elina. 

Without;  far  off.  The  noise  of  many  horsemen  on  the 
high-road. 

Nils  Lykke. 

Ah,  'tis  they  !  And  I  had  forgotten — !  They  are 
coming  hither.  Then  is  the  danger  great!  I  must  be- 
gone! 

Elina. 

But  whither?  Oh,  Nils  Lykke,  what  are  you  hid- 
ing  ? 

Nils  Lykke. 

^o-morrow,  Elina — ;  for  as  God  lives,  I  will  return 
to-morrow. — Quickly  now — where  is  the  secret  passage 
whereof  you  told  me  ? 


166  LADY   INGER  OF   OSTRAT         [act  v 

Elina. 

Through  the  grave-vault.  See, — here  is  the  trap- 
door  

Nils  Lykke. 

The  grave- vault!  [To  himself.]  No  matter,  he  must 
be  saved! 

Elina. 

[By  the  window.]  The  horsemen  have  reached  the 
gate [Hands  him  the  lantern. 

Nils  Lykke. 
Oh,  then [Begins  to  descend. 

Elina. 

Go  forward  along  the  passage  till  you  reach  the  cof- 
fin with  the  death's-head  and  the  black  cross;  it  is 
Lucia's 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Climbs  back  hastily  and  shuts  the  trap-door.]  Lucia's ! 
Pah ! 

Elina. 
What  said  you  ? 

Nils  Lykke. 

Nay,  nothing.  'Twas  the  air  of  the  graves  that  made 
me  dizzy. 

Elina. 
Hark;   they  are  hammering  at  the  gate! 


actv]         LADY   INGER   OF  OSTRAT  167 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Lets  the  lantern  fall.]     Ah!   too  late ! 

[Biorn  enters  hurriedly  from  the  right,  carrying  a 
light. 

Elina. 

[Goes  towards  him.]     What  is  amiss,  Biorn?     What 
is  it? 

Biorn. 

An  ambuscade!     Count  Sture 


Elina. 
Count  Sture  ?     What  of  him  ? 

Nils  Lykke. 
Have  they  killed  him  ? 

Biorn. 
[To  Elina.]     Where  is  your  mother? 

Two  Retainers. 

[Rushing  in  from  the  right.]  Lady  Inger!  Lady 
Inger! 

[Lady  Inger  Gyldenlove  enters  by  the  furthest 
back  door  on  the  left,  with  a  branch-candlestick, 
lighted,  in  lier  hand,  and  says  quickly: 

Lady  Inger. 

I  know  all.  Down  with  you  to  the  courtyard!  Keep 
the  gate  open  for  our  friends,  but  closed  against  all 
others ! 


168  LADY   INGER  OF   OSTRAT         [act  v 

[Puts  down  the  candlestick  on  the  table  to  the  left. 
Biorn  and  the  two  Retainers  go  out  again  to  the 
right. 

Lady  Inger. 

[To    Nils   Lykke.]     So    that    was   the   trap,    Sir 
Councillor! 


Nils  Lykke. 
Inger  Gyldenlove,  believe  me — 


Lady  Inger. 

An  ambuscade  that  was  to  snap  him  up  as  soon  as 
you  had  secured  the  promise  that  should  destroy  me! 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Takes  out  the  paper  and  tears  it  to  pieces.]  There  is 
your  promise.  I  keep  nothing  that  can  bear  witness 
against  you. 


What  is  this  ? 


Lady  Inger. 


Nils  Lykke. 


From  this  hour  will  I  put  your  thoughts  of  me  to  shame. 
If  I  have  sinned  against  you, — by  Heaven  I  will  strive  to 
repair  my  crime.  But  now  I  must  out,  if  I  have  to 
hew  my  way  through  the  gate ! — Elina — tell  your  mother 
all! — And  you,  Lady  Inger,  let  our  reckoning  be  for- 
gotten! Be  generous — and  silent!  Trust  me,  ere  dawn 
of  day  you  shall  owe  me  a  life's  gratitude. 

[Goes  out  quickly  to  the  right. 


act  v]         LADY   INGER  OF   OSTRAT  169 

Lady  Ingeb. 

[Looks  after  him  with  exultation.]     'Tis  well!     I  un- 
derstand him.  [Turns  to  Elina. 
Nils  Lykke—  ?     Well ? 

Elina. 

He  knocked  upon  my  door,  and  set  this  ring  upon  my 
finger. 

Lady  Inger 
And  from  his  soul  he  holds  you  dear? 

Elina. 
He  has  said  so,  and  I  believe  him. 

Lady  Inger 

Bravely  done,  Elina!     Ha-ha,  Sir  Knight,  now  is  it  my 
turn ! 

Elina. 

My  mother — you  are  so  strange.     Ah,  yes — I  know — 
'tis  my  unloving  ways  that  have  angered  you. 

Lady  Inger. 


Not  so,  dear  Elina!  You  are  an  obedient  child.  You 
have  opened  your  door  to  him;  you  have  hearkened  to 
his  soft  words.  I  know  full  well  what  it  must  have  cost 
you;   for  I  know  your  hatred 

Elina. 
But,  my  mother 


170  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT         [act  v 

Lady  Inger. 

Hush!  We  have  played  into  each  other's  hands.  What 
wiles  did  you  use,  my  subtle  daughter?  I  saw  the  love 
shine  out  of  his  eyes.  Hold  him  fast  now !  Draw  the  net 
closer  and  closer  about  him;  and  then —  Ah,  Elina,  if 
we  could  but  rend  asunder  his  perjured  heart  within  his 
breast ! 

Elina. 

Woe  is  me — what  is  it  you  say  ? 

Lady  Inger. 

Let  not  your  courage  fail  you.  Hearken  to  me.  I 
know  a  word  that  will  keep  you  firm.  Know  then — 
[Listening.]  They  are  fighting  before  the  gate.  Cour- 
age! Now  comes  the  pinch!  [Turns  again  to  Elina.] 
Know  then :  Nils  Lykke  was  the  man  that  brought  your 
sister  to  her  grave. 

Elina. 

[With  a  shriek.]     Lucia! 

Lady  Inger. 
He  it  was,  as  truly  as  there  is  an  Avenger  above  us! 

Elina. 
Then  Heaven  be  with  me! 

Lady  Inger. 
[A  ppalled.]     Elina ? ! 

Elina. 
I  am  his  bride  in  the  sight  of  God. 


act  v]         LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  171 

Lady  Inger. 
Unhappy  child, — what  have  you  done  ? 

Elina. 

[In  a  toneless  voice.]  Made  shipwreck  of  my  soul. — 
Good-night,  my  mother!  [She  goes  out  to  Hie  left. 

Lady  Inger. 

Ha-ha-ha !  It  goes  down-hill  apace  with  Inger  Gylden- 
love's  house.      There  went  the  last  of  my  daughters. 

Why  could  I  not  keep  silence?  Had  *she  known 
nought,  it  may  be  she  had  been  happy — after  a  kind. 

It  w  a  s  to  be  so.  It  is  written  up  yonder  in  the  stars 
that  I  am  to  break  off  one  green  branch  after  another  till 
the  trunk  stand  leafless  at  last. 

'Tis  well,  'tis  well!  I  shall  have  my  son  again.  Of 
the  others,  of  my  daughters,  I  will  not  think. 

My  reckoning  ?  To  face  my  reckoning  ? — It  falls  not 
due  till  the  last  great  day  of  wrath. — T  hat  comes  not 
yet  awhile. 

Nils  Stensson. 
[Calling from  outside  on  the  right.]     Ho — shut  the  gate ! 

Lady  Inger. 
Count  Sture's  voice ! 

Nils  Stensson. 

[Rushes  in,  unarmed,  and  with  his  clothes  torn,  and 
shouts  with  a  laugh  of  desperation.]  Well  met  again, 
Inger  Gyldenlove! 


172  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT         [act  v 

Lady  Ingek. 
What  have  you  lost  ? 

Nils  Stensson. 
My  kingdom  and  my  life! 

Lady  Inger. 
And  the  peasants  ?     My  servants  ? — where  are  they  ? 

Nils  Stensson. 

You  will  find  the  carcasses  along  the  highway.     Who 
has  the  rest,  I  cannot  tell  you. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
[Outside  on  the  right.]     Count  Sture!     Where  are  you  ? 

Nils  Stensson. 
Here,  here! 

[Olaf   Skaktavl   comes   in   with   his   right   hand 
wrapped  in  a  clout. 

Lady  Inger. 
Alas,  Olaf  Skaktavl,  you  too ! 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
'Twas  impossible  to  break  through. 

Lady  Inger. 
You  are  wounded,  I  see! 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
A  finger  the  less;   that  is  all. 


actv]         LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  173 

Nils  Stensson. 
Where  are  the  Swedes? 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
At  our  heels.     They  are  breaking  open  the  gate 

Nils  Stensson. 
Oh,  God !     No,  no!     I  c  a  n  n  o  t — I  will  not  die. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

A  hiding-place,  Lady  Inger!     Is  there  no  corner  where 
we  can  hide  him  ? 

Lady  Inger. 

But  if  they  search  the  castle ? 

Nils  Stensson. 

Ay,  ay;    they  will  find  me!     And  then  to  be  dragged 

away  to  prison,  or  be  strung  up !     No,  no,  Inger 

Gyldenlove, — I  know  full  well, — you  will  never  suffer 
that  to  be! 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

[Listening.]     There  burst  the  lock. 

Lady  Inger. 
[At  the  window.]     Many  men  rush  in  at  the  gateway. 

Nils  Stensson. 

And  to  lose  my  life    now!      Now,  when  my  true 
life   was   but  beginning!     Now,  when   I  have  so  lately 


174  LADY   INGER  OF   OSTRAT         [act  v 

learnt  that  I  have  aught  to  live  for.  No,  no,  no! — Think 
not  I  am  a  coward,  Inger  Gyldenlove!  Might  I  but 
have  time  to  show 

Lady  Inger. 

I  hear  them  now  in  the  hall  below. 

[Firmly  to  Olaf  Skaktavl. 
He   must   be  saved — cost  what  it  will ! 

Nils  Stensson. 

[Seizes  her  Jiand.]     Oh,  I  knew  it; — you  are  noble  and 
good! 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
But  how  ?     Since  we  cannot  hide  him 


Nils  Stensson. 
Ah,  I  have  it!     I  have  it!     The  secret ! 

Lady  Inger. 
The  secret? 

Nils  Stensson. 

Even  so;  yours  and  mine! 

Lady  Inger. 
Merciful  Heaven — you  know  it  ? 

Nils  Stensson. 

From  first  to  last.     And  now  when  'tis  life  or  death — 
Where  is  Nils  Lykke? 

Lady  Inger. 
Fled. 


act  v]         LADY  INGER   OF  OSTRAT  175 

Nils  Stensson. 

Fled  ?  Then  God  help  me;  for  he  alone  can  unseal 
my  lips.— But  what  is  a  promise  against  a  life!  When 
the  Swedish  captain  comes 

Lady  Inger. 
What  then  ?     What  will  you  do  ? 

Nils  Stensson. 
Purchase  life  and  freedom;— tell  him  all. 

Lady  Inger. 
Oh  no,  no; — be  merciful! 

Nils  Stensson. 

Nought  else  can  save  me.     When  I  have  told  him 
what  I  know 

Lady  Inger. 

[Looks  at  him  with  suppressed  agitation.]     You  will  be 
safe? 

Nils  Stensson. 

Ay,  safe !     Nils  Lykke  will  speak  for  me.     You  see,  'tis 
le  last  resource. 

Lady  Inger. 
[Composedly,    with    emphasis.]     The    last    resource? 
Right,  right— the  last  resource  all  are  free  to  try.    [Points 
to  the  left.]     See,  meanwhile  you  can  hide  in  there. 

Nils  Stensson. 

[In  a  low  voice.]     Trust  me— you  will  never  repent  of 
this.  v 


176  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT         [act  v 

Lady  Inger. 

[Half  to  herself.]     God  grant  that  you  speak  the  truth ! 
[Nils  Stensson  goes  out  hastily  by  the  furthest  door 
on  the  left.     Olaf   Skaktavl  is  following ;  but 
Lady  Inger  detains  him. 


Lady  Inger. 
Did  you  understand  his  meaning  ? 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

The  dastard !  He  would  betray  your  secret.  He  would 
sacrifice  your  son  to  save  himself. 

Lady  Inger. 

When  life  is  at  stake,  he  said,  we  must  try  the  last  re- 
source.— 'Tis  well,  Olaf  Skaktavl, — let  it  be  as  he  has 
said! 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

What  mean  you  ? 

Lady  Inger. 

Life  against  life!     One  of  them  must  perish. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
Ah — you  would ? 

Lady  Inger. 

If  we  close  not  the  lips  of  him  that  is  within  ere  he 
come  to  speech  with  the  Swedish  captain,  then  is  my 
son  lost  to  me.  But  if,  on  the  other  hand,  he  be  swept 
from  my  path,  when  the  time  comes  I  can  claim  all  his 


act  v]         LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  177 

rights  for  my  own  child.  Then  shall  you  see  that  Inger 
Ottisdaughter  has  metal  in  her  yet.  Of  this  be  assured 
—you  shall  not  have  long  to  wait  for  the  vengeance  you 
have  thirsted  after  for  twenty  years. — Hark!  They  are 
coming  up  the  stairs!  Olaf  Skaktavl  —  it  lies  with  you 
whether  to-morrow  I  shall  be  no  more  than  a  childless 
woman,  or 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

So  be  it!  I  have  yet  one  sound  hand  left.  [Gives  her 
his  hand.]  Inger  Gyldenlove— your  name  shall  not  die 
out  through  me. 

[Follows  Nils  Stensson  into  the  inner  room. 

Lady  Inger. 

[Pale  and  trembling.]     But  dare  I ? 

[A  noise  is  heard  in  the  room;  she  rushes  with  a 
scream  towards  the  door. 
No,  no, — it  must  not  be! 

[A  heavy  fall  is  heard  within;  she  covers  her  ears 
with  lier  hands  and  hurries  back  across  the  hall 
with  a  wild  look.  After  a  pause  she  takes  her  hands 
cautiously  away,  listens  again,  and  says  softly: 

Now  it  is  over.     All  is  still  within 

Thou  sawest  it,  God— I  repented  me!  But  Olaf 
Skaktavl  was  too  swift  of  hand. 

[Olaf  Skaktavl  comes  silently  into  tJie  hall. 

Lady  Inger. 
[After  a  pause,  without  looking  at  him.]     Is  it  done  ? 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 
You  need  fear  him  no  more;    he  will  betray  no  one. 


178  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT         [act  v 

Lady  Inger. 
[As  before.]     Then  he  is  dumb  ? 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

Six  inches  of  steel  in  his  breast.     I  felled  him  with  my 
left  hand. 

Lady  Inger. 
Ay,  ay — the  right  was  too  good  for  such  work. 

Olaf  Skaktavl. 

That  is  your  affair; — the  thought  was  yours. — And 
now  to  Sweden !     Peace  be  with  you  meanwhile !     When 
next  we  meet  at  Ostrat,  I  shall  bring  another  with  me. 
[Goes  out  by  the  furthest  door  on  the  right. 

Lady  Inger. 

Blood  on  my  hands.     Then  'twas  to  come  to  that! — 
He  begins  to  be  dear-bought  now. 

[Biorn  comes  in,  with  a  number  of  Swedish  Men-at- 
Arms,  by  the  first  door  on  the  right. 

One  of  the  Men-at-Arms. 
Pardon,  if  you  are  the  lady  of  the  house 

Lady  Inger. 
Is  it  Count  Sture  ye  seek  ? 

The  Man-at-Arms. 
The  same. 

Lady  Inger. 

Then  you  are  on  the  right  track.     The  Count  has 
sought  refuge  with  me. 


act  v]         LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  179 

The  Man-at-Arms. 

Refuge  ?  Pardon,  my  noble  lady, — you  have  no  power 
to  harbour  him;  for 

Lady  Inger. 

That  the  Count  himself  has  doubtless  understood ;  and 
therefore  he  has — ay,  look  for  yourselves — therefore  he 
has  taken  his  own  life. 

The  Man-at-Arms. 
His  own  life! 

Lady  Inger. 

Look  for  yourselves,  I  say.  You  will  find  the  corpse 
within  there.  And  since  he  already  stands  before  another 
judge,  it  is  my  prayer  that  he  may  be  borne  hence  with  all 
the  honour  that  beseems  his  noble  birth. — Bibrn,  you 
know  my  own  coffin  has  stood  ready  this  many  a  year 
in  the  secret  chamber.  [To  the  Men- at- Arms.]  I  pray 
that  in  it  you  will  bear  Count  Sture's  body  to  Sweden. 

The  Man-at-Arms. 

It  shall  be  as  you  command.  [To  one  of  the  others.] 
Haste  with  these  tidings  to  Jens  Bielke.  He  holds  the 
road   with  the   rest  of  the  troop.     We  others  must  in 

and 

[One  of  the  Men- at- Arms  goes  out  to  the  right;  the 
others  go  with  Biorn  into  the  room  on  the  left. 

Lady  Inger. 

[Moves  about  for  a  time  in  uneasy  silence.]  If  Count 
Sture  had  not  taken  such  hurried  leave  of  the  world, 


180  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  [act  v 

within  a  month  he  had  hung  on  a  gallows,  or  had  lain 
for  all  his  days  in  a  dungeon.  Had  he  been  better 
served  with  such  a  lot? 

Or  else  he  had  bought  his  life  by  betraying  my  child 
into  the  hands  of  my  foes.  Is  it  /,  then,  that  have 
slain  him  ?  Does  not  even  the  wolf  defend  her  cubs  ? 
Who  dare  condemn  me  for  striking  my  claws  into  him 
that  would  have  reft  me  of  my  flesh  and  blood  ? — It  had 
to  be.     No  mother  but  would  have  done  even  as  I. 

But  'tis  no  time  for  idle  musings  now.     I  must  to  work. 
[Sits  down  by  the  table  on  the  left. 

I  will  write  to  all  my  friends  throughout  the  land. 
They  must  rise  as  one  man  to  support  the  great  cause. 

A  new  king, — regent  first,  and  then  king [Begins  to 

write,  but  falls  into  thought,  and  says  softly:]  Who  will  be 
chosen  in  the  dead  man's  place  ? — A  king's  mother —  ? 
'Tis  a  fair  word.  It  has  but  one  blemish — the  hateful 
likeness  to  another  word. — King's  mother  and — 
king's  m  u  r  d  e  r  e  r1 — King's  murderer — one  that  takes 
a  king's  life.  King's  mother — one  that  gives  a  king 
life.  [She  rises. 

Well,  then;  I  will  make  good  what  I  have  taken. — My 
son  shall  be  a  king! 

[She  sits  down  again  and  begins  writing,  but  'pushes 
the  paper  away  again,  and  leans  back  in  her  chair. 

There  is  ever  an  eerie  feeling  in  a  house  where  lies  a 
corpse.  'Tis  therefore  my  mood  is  so  strange.  [Turns 
her  head  to  one  side  as  if  speaking  to  some  one.]  Not 
therefore  ?     Why  else  should  it  be  ?  [Broodingly. 

Is  there  such  a  great  gulf,  then,  between  openly  striking 
down  a  foe  and  slaying  one  thus  ?  Knut  Alfson  had 
cleft  many  a  brow  with  his  sword;   yet  was  his  own  as 

'The  words  in  the  original  are  "Kongemoder"  and  "Konge- 
morder,"  a  difference  of  one  letter  only. 


1 


act  v]        LADY    INGER    OF    OSTRAT  181 

peaceful  as  a  child's.  Why  then  do  I  ever  see  this— 
[makes  a  motion  as  though  striking  with  a  knife] — this  stab 
in  the  heart— and  the  gush  of  red  blood  after  ?  [Rings, 
and  goes  on  speaking  while  shifting  about  her  papers.] 
Hereafter  I  will  have  nought  to  do  with  such  ugly  sights. 
I  will  be  at  work  both  day  and  night.  And  in  a  month — 
in  a  month  my  son  will  be  here 

Biorn. 
[Entering.]     Did  you  strike  the  bell,  my  lady  ? 

Lady  Inger. 

[Writing.]  Bring  more  lights.  See  to  it  in  future  that 
there  are  many  lights  in  the  room. 

[Biorn  goes  out  again  to  the  left. 

Lady  Inger. 

[After  a  pause,  rises  impetuously.]  No,  no,  no; — I  can- 
not guide  the  pen  to-night!     My  head  is  burning  and 

throbbing [Startled,  listens.]      What    is    that? 

Ah,  they  are  screwing  the  lid  on  the  coffin. 

They  told  me  when  I  was  a  child  the  story  of  Sir 
Aage,1  who  rose  up  and  walked  with  his  coffin  on  his 
back.— If  h  e  in  there  bethought  him  one  night  to  come 
with  the  coffin  on  his  back,  and  thank  me  for  the  loan  ? 
[Laughs  quietly.]  H'm— what  have  we  grown  people  to 
do  with  childish  fancies?  [Vehemently.]  Nevertheless, 
such  stories  do  no  good!  They  give  uneasy  dreams. 
When  my  son  is  king,  they  shall  be  forbidden. 

[Paces  up  and  down  once  or  twice;  then  opens  the 
window. 

1  Pronounce  Oaghi. 


182  LADY  INGER  OF  OSTRAT         [act  v 

How  long  is  it,  commonly,  ere  a  body  begins  to  rot? 
All  the  rooms  must  be  aired.  'Tis  not  wholesome  here 
till  that  be  done. 

[Biorn  comes  in  with  two  lighted  branch-candlesticks, 
which  he  places  ontfie  tables. 

Lady  Ingeb. 

[Who  has  set  to  work  at  the  papers  again.]  It  is  well. 
See  you  forget  not  what  I  have  said.  Many  lights  on 
the  table! 

What  are  they  about  now  in  there  ? 

Biorn. 

They  are  still  screwing  down  the  coffin-lid. 

Lady  Inger. 
[Writing.]     Are  they  screwing  it  down    tight  ? 

Biorn. 
As  tight  as  need  be. 

Lady  Inger. 

Ay,  ay — who  can  tell  how  tight  it  needs  to  be  ?  Do 
you  see  that  'tis  well  done.  [Goes  up  to  him  with  her 
hand  full  of  papers,  and  says  mysteriously:]  Biorn,  you 
are  an  old  man;  but  one  counsel  I  will  give  you.  Be 
on  your  guard  against  all  men — both  those  that  are 
dead  and  those  that  are  still  to  die. — Now  go  in — go  in 
and  see  to  it  that  they  screw  the  lid  down  tightly. 

Biorn. 

[Softly,  shaking  his  head.]     I  cannot  make  her  out. 

[Goes  back  again  into  the  room  on  the  left. 


act  v]         LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  183 

Lady  Inger. 

[Begins  to  seal  a  letter,  but  throws  it  down  half-closed; 
walks  up  and  down  awhile,  and  tfien  says  vehemently:] 
Were  I  a  coward  I  had  never  done  it — never  to  all 
eternity!  Were  I  a  coward,  I  had  shrieked  to  myself: 
Refrain,  while  there  is  yet  a  shred  of  hope  for  the  saving 
of  thy  soul! 

[Her  eye  falls  on  Sten  Sture's  picture;   she  turns  to 
avoid  seeing  it,  and  says  softly: 
He  is  laughing  down  at  me  as  though  he  were  alive! 
Pah! 

[Turns  the  picture  to  Hie  wall  without  looking  at  it. 
Wherefore  did  you  laugh  ?     Was  it  because  I  did  evil 
to  your  son  ?     But  the  other, — is  not  he  your  son  too  ? 
And  he  is  mine  as  well;   mark  that! 

[Glances  stealthily  along  the  row  of  pictures. 

So  wild  as  they  are  to-night,  I  have  never  seen  them 

yet.     Their  eyes  follow  me  wherever  I  may  go.     [Stamps 

on  tlie floor.]     I  will  not  have  it!     I  will  have  peace  in  my 

house !     [Begins  to  turn  all  the  pictures  to  the  wall.]     Ay, 

if  it  were  the  Holy  Virgin  herself Thinkest  thou 

now    is  the  time ?     Why  didst  thou  never  hear 

my  prayers,  my  burning  prayers,  that  I  might  have  my 
child  again  ?     Why  ?     Because  the  monk  of  Wittenberg 
is  right:   There  is  no  mediator  between  God  and  man! 
[She  draws  her  breath  heavily,  and  continues  in  ever- 
increasing  distraction. 
'Tis  well  that  I  know  what  to  think  in  such  things. 
There  was  no  one  to  see  what  was  done  in  there.     There 
is  none  to  bear  witness  against  me. 

[Suddenly  stretclies  out  her  hands  and  whispers: 

My  son!     My  beloved  child!     Come  to  me!     Here  I 

am! — Hush!     I  will  tell  you  something:    They  hate  me 


184  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT         [act  v 

up  there — beyond  the  stars — because  I  bore  you  into  the 
world.  'Twas  their  will  that  I  should  bear  the  Lord 
God's  standard  over  all  the  land.  But  I  went  my  own 
way.  That  is  why  I  have  had  to  suffer  so  much  and  so 
long. 

BlORN. 

[Comes  from  the  room  on  the  left.]  My  lady,  I  have  to 
tell  you —     Christ  save  me — what  is  this  ? 

Lady  Inger. 

[Has  climbed  up  into  the  high-seat  by  the  right-hand 
wall.]  Hush!  Hush!  I  am  the  King's  mother.  My 
son  has  been  chosen  king.  The  struggle  was  hard  ere  it 
came  to  this — for  'twas  with  the  Almighty  One  himself  I 
had  to  strive. 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Comes  in  breathless  from  the  right.]  He  is  saved! 
I  have  Jens  Bielke's  promise.  Lady  Inger, — know 
that 

Lady  Inger. 

Peace,  I  say!   look  how  the  people  swarm. 

[A  funeral  hymn  is  heard  from  the  room  within. 

There  comes  the  coronation  train.  What  a  throng! 
All  men  bow  themselves  before  the  King's  mother.  Ay, 
ay;  has  she  not  fought  for  her  son — even  till  her  hands 
grew  red  withal  ? — Where  are  my  daughters  ?  I  see 
them  not. 

Nils  Lykke. 

God's  blood! — what  has  befallen  here? 


act  v]         LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT  185 

Lady  Inger. 

My  daughters — my  fair  daughters!  I  have  none  any 
more.  I  had  one  left,  and  her  I  lost  even  as  she  was 
mounting  her  bridal  bed.  [Whisper^  In  it  lay  Lucia 
dead.     There  was  no  room  for  two. 

Nils  Lykke. 

Ah — it  has  come  to  this!  The  Lord's  vengeance  is 
upon  me. 

Lady  Inger. 

Can  you  see  him  ?  Look,  look!  'Tis  the  King.  It  is 
Inger  Gyldenlove's  son!  I  know  him  by  the  crown  and 
by  Sten  Sture's  ring  that  he  wears  round  his  neck.  Hark, 
what  a  joyful  sound !  He  is  coming !  Soon  will  he  be  in 
my  arms !     Ha-ha ! — who  conquers,  God  or  I  ? 

[Tfie  Men- at- Arms  come  out  with  the  coffin. 

Lady  Inger. 

[Clutches  at  her  head  and  shrieks.]  The  corpse! 
[Whispers.]     Pah!     'Tis  a  hideous  dream. 

[Sinks  back  into  the  high-seat. 

Jens  Bielke. 

[Who  has  come  in  from  the  rigid,  stops  and  cries  in 
astonishment.]     Dead!     Then  after  all 

One  of  the  Men-at-Arms. 
'Twas  he  himself  that 

Jens  Bielke. 
[With  a  look  at  Nils  Lykke.]     He  himself ? 


186  LADY   INGER   OF   OSTRAT         [act  v 

Nils  Lykke. 
Hush! 

Lady  Inger. 

[Faintly,  coming  to  herself.]     Ay,   right; — now  I  re- 
member all. 

Jens  Bielke. 

[To  the  Men- at- Arms.]     Set  down  the  corpse.     It  is 
not  Count  Sture. 

One  of  the  Men-at-Arms. 

Your  pardon,  Captain; — this  ring  that  he  wore  around 
his  neck 

Nils  Lykke. 

[Seizes  his  arm.]     Be  still! 

Lady  Inger. 

[Starts  up.]     The  ring?     The  ring! 

[Rushes  up  and  snatches  the  ring  from  him. 

Sten  Sture's  ring!     [With  a  shriek.]     Oh  God,  oh  God 

— my  son!  [Throws  herself  down  on  the  coffin. 

The  Men-at-Arms. 
Her  son  ? 

Jens  Bielke. 

[At  the  same  time.]     Inger  Gyldenlove's  son  ? 

Nils  Lykke. 
So  is  it. 

Jens  Bielke. 

But  why  did  you  not  tell  me ? 


act  v]         LADY  INGER  OF  OSTRAT  187 

BlORN. 

[Trying  to  raise  her  up.]     Help!    help!     My  lady— 
what  ails  you  ?  what  lack  you  ? 

Lady  Inger. 

[In  a  faint  voice,  half  raising  fierself]     What  lack  I  ? 

One  coffin  more.     A  grave  beside  my  child 

[Sinks  again,  senseless,  on  the  coffin.  Nils  Lykke 
goes  hastily  out  to  the  right.  General  consterna- 
tion among  the  rest. 


THE  FEAST  AT  SOLHOUG 


THE  FEAST  AT  SOLHOUG 
INTRODUCTION  * 

Exactly  a  year  after  the  production  of  Lady  Inger  of 
Ostrat— that  is  to  say  on  the  "Foundation  Day"  of  the 
Bergen  Theatre,  January  2,  1856—  The  Feast  at  Solhoug 
was  produced.  The  poet  himself  has  written  its  history 
in  full  in  the  Preface  to  the  second  edition  (see  p.  196). 
The  only  comment  that  need  be  made  uppn  his  rejoinder 
to  his  critics  has  been  made,  with  perfect  fairness  as  it 
seems  to  me,  by  George  Brandes  in  the  following  pas- 
sage:1 "No  one  who  is  unacquainted  with  the  Scandina- 
vian languages  can  fully  understand  the  charm  that  the 
style  and  melody  of  the  old  ballads  exercise  upon  the 
Scandinavian  mind.  The  beautiful  ballads  and  songs  of 
Des  Knaben  Wunderhorn  have  perhaps  had  a  similar 
power  over  German  minds;  but,  as  far  as  I  am  aware,  no 
German  poet  has  ever  succeeded  in  inventing  a  metre 
suitable  for  dramatic  purposes,  which  yet  retained  the 
mediaeval  ballad's  sonorous  swing  and  rich  aroma.  The 
explanation  of  the  powerful  impression  produced  in  its 
day  by  Henrik  Hertz's  Svend  Dyring's  House  is  to  be 
found  in  the  fact  that  in  it,  for  the  first  time,  the  problem 
was  solved  of  how  to  fashion  a  metre  akin  to  that  of  the 

1  Ibsen  and  Bjornson.    London,  Heinemann,  1899,  p.  88. 

*  Copyright,  1908,  by  Charles  Scribner's  Sons. 

191 


192  THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG 

heroic  ballads,  a  metre  possessing  as  great  mobility  as  the 
verse  of  the  Niebelungenlied,  along  with  a  dramatic  value 
not  inferior  to  that  of  the  iambic  pentameter.  Henrik 
Ibsen,  it  is  true,  has  justly  pointed  out  that,  as  regards 
the  mutual  relations  of  the  principal  characters,  Svend 
Dyring's  House  owes  more  to  Kleist's  Kdthchen  von  Heil- 
bronn  than  The  Feast  at  Solhoug  owes  to  Svend  Dyring's 
House.  But  the  fact  remains  that  the  versified  parts 
of  the  dialogue  of  both  The  Feast  at  Solhoug  and  Olatf 
Liliekrans  are  written  in  that  imitation  of  the  tone  and 
style  of  the  heroic  ballad,  of  which  Hertz  was  the  hap- 
pily-inspired originator.  There  seems  to  me  to  be  no 
depreciation  whatever  of  Ibsen  in  the  assertion  of  Hertz's 
right  to  rank  as  his  model.  Even  the  greatest  must  have 
learnt  from  sonae  one." 

The  question  is,  to  put  it  in  a  nutshell:  Supposing 
Hertz  had  never  adapted  the  ballad  measures  to  dramatic 
purposes,  would  Ibsen  have  written  The  Feast  at  Solhoug, 
at  any  rate  in  its  present  form  ?  I  think  we  must  answer: 
Almost  certainly,  no. 

But  while  the  influence  of  Danish  lyrical  romanticism 
is  apparent  in  the  style  of  the  play,  the  structure,  as  it 
seems  to  me,  shows  no  less  clearly  that  influence  of  the 
French  plot-manipulators  which  we  found  so  unmistak- 
ably at  work  in  Lady  Inger.  Despite  its  lyrical  dialogue, 
The  Feast  at  Solhoug  has  that  crispness  of  dramatic 
action  which  marks  the  French  plays  of  the  period.  It 
may  indeed  be  called  Scribe's  Bataille  de  Dames  writ 
tragic.  Here,  as  in  the  Bataille  de  Dames  (one  of  the 
earliest  plays  produced  under  Ibsen's  supervision),  we 
have  the  rivalry  of  an  older  and  a  younger  woman  for  the 


INTRODUCTION  193 

love  of  a  iruin  who  is  proscribed  on  an  unjust  accusation, 
and  pursued  by  the  emissaries  of  the  royal  power.  One 
might  even,  though  this  would  be  forcing  the  point,  find 
an  analogy  in  the  fact  that  the  elder  woman  (in  both 
plays  a  strong  and  determined  character)  has  in  Scribe's 
comedy  a  cowardly  suitor,  while  in  Ibsen's  tragedy,  or 
melodrama,  she  has  a  cowardly  husband.  In  every 
other  respect  the  plays  are  as  dissimilar  as  possible;  yet 
it  seems  to  me  far  from  unlikely  that  an  unconscious 
reminiscence  of  the  Bataille  de  Dames  may  have  con- 
tributed to  the  shaping  of  The  Feast  at  Solhoug  in  Ibsen's 
mind.  But  more  significant  than  any  resemblance  of 
theme  is  the  similarity  of  Ibsen's  whole  method  to  that 
of  the  French  school — the  way,  for  instance,  in  which 
misunderstandings  are  kept  up  through  a  careful  avoid- 
ance of  the  use  of  proper  names,  and  the  way  in  which  a 
cup  of  poison,  prepared  for  one  person,  comes  into  the 
hands  of  another  person,  is,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  drunk  by 
no  one,  but  occasions  the  acutest  agony  to  the  would-be 
poisoner.  All  this  ingenious  dovetailing  of  incidents  and 
working-up  of  misunderstandings  Ibsen  unquestionably 
learned  from  the  French.  The  French  language,  indeed, 
is  the  only  one  which  has  a  word — quiproquo — to  indi- 
cate the  class  of  misunderstanding  which,  from  Lady 
Inger  down  to  The  League  of  Youth,  Ibsen  employed 
without  scruple. 

Ibsen's  first  visit  to  the  home  of  his  future  wife  took 
place  five  days  after  the  production  of  The  Feast  at  Sol- 
houg.    It  seems  doubtful  whether  this  was  actually  his 
first  meeting  with  her;1  but  at  any  rate  we  can  scarcely 
1  See  note,  p.  12. 


194  THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG 

suppose  that  he  knew  her  during  the  previous  summer, 
when  he  was  writing  his  play.  It  is  a  curious  coincidence, 
then,  that  he  should  have  found  in  Susanna  Thoresen 
and  her  sister  Marie  very  much  the  same  contrast  of 
characters  which  had  occupied  him  in  his  first  dramatic 
effort,  Catilina,  and  which  had  formed  the  main  subject 
of  the  play  he  had  just  produced.  It  is  less  wonderful 
that  the  same  contrast  should  so  often  recur  in  his  later 
works,  even  down  to  John  Gabriel  Borkman.  Ibsen  was 
greatly  attached  to  his  gentle  and  retiring  sister-in-law, 
who  died  unmarried  in  1874. 

The  Feast  at  Solhoug  has  been  translated  by  Miss 
Morison  and  myself,  only  because  no  one  else  could  be 
found  to  undertake  the  task.  We  have  done  our  best; 
but  neither  of  us  lays  claim  to  any  great  metrical  skill, 
and  the  light  movement  of  Ibsen's  verse  is  often,  if  not 
always,  rendered  in  a  sadly  halting  fashion.  It  is,  how- 
ever, impossible  to  exaggerate  the  irregularity  of  the 
verse  in  the  original,  or  its  defiance  of  strict  metrical  law. 
The  normal  line  is  one  of  four  accents;  but  when  this  is 
said,  it  is  almost  impossible  to  arrive  at  any  further  gen- 
eralisation. There  is  a  certain  lilting  melody  in  many 
passages,  and  the  whole  play  has  not  unfairly  been  said  to 
possess  the  charm  of  a  northern  summer  night,  in  which 
the  glimmer  of  twilight  gives  place  only  to  the  gleam  of 
morning.  But  in  the  main  (though  much  better  than  its 
successor,  Olaf  Liliekrans)  it  is  the  weakest  thing  that 
Ibsen  admitted  into  the  canon  of  his  works.  He  wrote 
of  it  in  1870  as  "a  study  which  I  now  disown";  and  had 
he  continued  in  that  frame  of  mind,  the  world  would 


INTRODUCTION  195 

scarcely  have  quarrelled  with  his  judgment.  At  worst, 
then,  my  collaborator  and  I  cannot  be  accused  of  marring 
a  masterpiece;  but  for  which  assurance' we  should  prob- 
ably have  shrunk  from  the  attempt. 

W.  A. 


THE  AUTHOR'S   PREFACE  TO   THE   SECOND 
EDITION 

I  wrote  The  Feast  at  Solhoug  in  Bergen  in  the  sum- 
mer of  1855 — that  is  to  say,  about  twenty-eight  years 
ago. 

The  play  was  acted  for  the  first  time  on  January  2, 
1856,  also  at  Bergen,  as  a  gala  performance  on  the  anni- 
versary of  the  foundation  of  the  Norwegian  Stage. 

As  I  was  then  stage-manager  of  the  Bergen  Theatre, 
it  was  I  myself  who  conducted  the  rehearsals  of  my  play. 
It  received  an  excellent,  a  remarkably  sympathetic  in- 
terpretation. Acted  with  pleasure  and  enthusiasm,  it 
was  received  in  the  same  spirit.  The  "Bergen  emo- 
tionalism," which  is  said  to  have  decided  the  result  of 
the  latest  elections  in  those  parts,  ran  high  that  evening 
in  the  crowded  theatre.  The  performance  ended  with 
repeated  calls  for  the  author  and  for  the  actors.  Later 
in  the  evening  I  was  serenaded  by  the  orchestra,  ac- 
companied by  a  great  part  of  the  audience.  I  almost 
think  that  I  went  so  far  as  to  make  some  kind  of  speech 
from  my  window;  certain  I  am  that  I  felt  extremely 
happy. 

A  couple  of  months  later,  The  Feast  at  Solhoug  was 
played  in  Christiania.  There  also  it  was  received  by  the 
public  with  much  approbation,  and  the  day  after  the  first 
performance  Bjbrnson  wrote  a  friendly,  youthfully  ardent 

196 


PREFACE  TO  THE  SECOND  EDITION    197 

article  on  it  in  the  Morgenblad.  It  was  not  a  notice  or 
criticism  proper,  but  rather  a  free,  fanciful  improvisa- 
tion on  the  play  and  the  performance. 

On  this,  however,  followed  the  real  criticism,  written 
by  the  real  critics. 

How  did  a  man  in  the  Christiania  of  those  days — by 
which  I  mean  the  years  between  1850  and  1860,  or  there- 
abouts— become  a  real  literary,  and  in  particular  dra- 
matic, critic  ? 

As  a  rule,  the  process  was  as  follows:  After  some  pre- 
paratory exercises  in  the  columns  of  the  Samfundsblad, 
and  after  having  frequently  listened  to  the  discussions 
which  went  on  in  Treschow's  cafe  or  at  "IngebretV 
after  the  play,  the  future  critic  betook  himself  to  Johan 
Dahl's  bookshop  and  ordered  from  Copenhagen  a  copy 
of  J.  L.  Heiberg's  Prose  Works,  among  which  was  to  be 
found — so  he  had  heard  it  said — an  essay  entitled  On  tlie 
Vaudeville.  This  essay  was  in  due  course  read,  rumi- 
bated  on,  and  possibly  to  a  certain  extent  understood. 
Prom  Heiberg's  writings  the  young  man,  moreover, 
learned  of  a  controversy  which  that  author  had  carried 
on  in  his  day  with  Professor  Oehlenschliiger  and  with  the 
Boro  poet,  Hauch.  And  he  was  simultaneously  made 
aware  that  J.  L.  Baggesen  (the  author  of  Letters  from  the 
Dead)  had  at  a  still  earlier  period  made  a  similar  attack 
on  the  great  author  who  wrote  both  Axel  and  Valborg  and 
Hakon  Jarl. 

A  quantity  of  other  information  useful  to  a  critic  was 
to  be  extracted  from  these  writings.  From  them  one 
learned,  for  instance,  that  taste  obliged  a  good  critic  to 
be  scandalised  by  a  hiatus.     Did  the  young  critical  Jero- 


198  THE   FEAST   AT  SOLHOUG 

nimuses  of  Christiania  encounter  such  a  monstrosity  in 
any  new  verse,  they  were  as  certain  as  their  prototype  in 
Holberg  to  shout  their  "Hoity-toity!  the  world  will  not 
last  till  Easter!" 

The  origin  of  another  peculiar  characteristic  of  the 
criticism  then  prevalent  in  the  Norwegian  capital  was 
long  a  puzzle  to  me.  Every  time  a  new  author  published 
a  book  or  had  a  little  play  acted,  our  critics  were  in  the 
habit  of  flying  into  an  ungovernable  passion  and  behav- 
ing as  if  the  publication  of  the  book  or  the  performance 
of  the  play  were  a  mortal  insult  to  themselves  and  the 
newspapers  in  which  they  wrote.  As  already  remarked, 
I  puzzled  long  over  this  peculiarity.  At  last  I  got  to 
the  bottom  of  the  matter.  Whilst  reading  the  Danish 
Monthly  Journal  of  Literature  I  was  struck  by  the  fact 
that  old  State-Councillor  Molbech  was  invariably  seized 
with  a  fit  of  rage  when  a  young  author  published  a  book 
or  had  a  play  acted  in  Copenhagen. 

Thus,  or  in  a  manner  closely  resembling  this,  had  the 
tribunal  qualified  itself,  which  now,  in  the  daily  press, 
summoned  The  Feast  at  Solhoug  to  the  bar  of  criticism  in 
Christiania.  It  was  principally  composed  of  young  men 
who,  as  regards  criticism,  lived  upon  loans  from  various 
quarters.  Their  critical  thoughts  had  long  ago  been 
thought  and  expressed  by  others;  their  opinions  had 
long  ere  now  been  formulated  elsewhere.  Their  aesthetic 
principles  were  borrowed;  their  critical  method  was  bor- 
rowed; the  polemical  tactics  they  employed  were  bor- 
rowed in  every  particular,  great  and  small.  Their  very 
frame  of  mind  was  borrowed.  Borrowing,  borrowing, 
here,  there,  and  everywhere!     The  single  original  thing 


PREFACE  TO  THE  SECOND  EDITION    199 

about  them  was  that  they  invariably  made  a  wrong  and 
unseasonable  application  of  their  borrowings. 

It  can  surprise  no  one  that  this  body,  the  members 
of  which,  as  critics,  supported  themselves  by  borrowing, 
should  have  presupposed  similar  action  on  my  part,  as 
author.  Two,  possibly  more  than  two,  of  the  news- 
papers promptly  discovered  that  I  had  borrowed  this, 
that,  and  the  other  thing  from  Henrik  Hertz's  play,  Svend 
Dyring's  House. 

This  is  a  baseless  and  indefensible  critical  assertion. 
It  is  evidently  to  be  ascribed  to  the  fact  that  the  metre 
of  the  ancient  ballads  is  employed  in  both  plays.  But 
my  tone  is  quite  different  from  Hertz's;  the  language 
of  my  play  has  a  different  ring;  a  light  summer  breeze 
plays  over  the  rhythm  of  my  verse;  over  that  of  Hertz's 
brood  the  storms  of  autumn. 

Nor,  as  regards  the  characters,  the  action,  and  the 
contents  of  the  plays  generally,  is  there  any  other  or  any 
greater  resemblance  between  them  than  that  which  is  a 
natural  consequence  of  the  derivation  of  the  subjects  of 
both  from  the  narrow  circle  of  ideas  in  which  the  ancient 
ballads  move. 

It  might  be  maintained  with  quite  as  much,  or  even 
more,  reason  that  Hertz  in  his  Svend  Dyring's  House  had 
borrowed,  and  that  to  no  inconsiderable  extent,  from 
Heinrich  von  Kleist's  Kdtficfien  von  Heilbronn,  a  play 
written  at  the  beginning  of  this  century.  Kathchen's  re- 
lation to  Count  Wetterstrahl  is  in  all  essentials  the  same 
as  Ragnhild's  to  the  knight,  Stig  Hvide.  Like  Ragn- 
hild,  Kathchen  is  compelled  by  a  mysterious,  inexplica- 
ble power  to  follow  the  man  she  loves  wherever  he  goes, 


200  THE   FEAST  AT  SOLHOUG 

to  steal  secretly  after  him,  to  lay  herself  down  to  sleep 
near  him,  to  come  back  to  him,  as  by  some  innate  com- 
pulsion, however  often  she  may  be  driven  away.  And 
other  instances  of  supernatural  interference  are  to  be 
met  with  both  in  Kleist's  and  in  Hertz's  play. 

But  does  any  one  doubt  that  it  would  be  possible,  with  a 
little  good-  or  a  little  ill-will,  to  discover  among  still  older 
dramatic  literature  a  play  from  which  it  could  be  main- 
tained that  Kleist  had  borrowed  here  and  there  in  his 
Kathchen  von  Heilbronn  ?  I,  for  my  part,  do  not  doubt 
it.  But  such  suggestions  of  indebtedness  are  futile. 
What  makes  a  work  of  art  the  spiritual  property  of  its 
creator  is  the  fact  that  he  has  imprinted  on  it  the  stamp 
of  his  own  personality.  Therefore  I  hold  that,  in  spite 
of  the  above-mentioned  points  of  resemblance,  Svend 
During*  s  House  is  as  incpntestably  and  entirely  an  orig- 
inal work  by  Henrik  Hertz  as  Kathchen  von  Heilbronn 
is  an  original  work  by  Heinrich  von  Kleist. 

I  advance  the  same  claim  on  my  own  behalf  as  re- 
gards The  Feast  at  Solhoug,  and  I  trust  that,  for  the 
future,  each  of  the  three  namesakes1  will  be  permitted 
to  keep,  in  its  entirety,  what  rightfully  belongs  to  him. 

In  writing  of  The  Feast  at  Solhoug  in  connection  with 
Svend  Dyring's  House,  George  Brandes  expresses  the 
opinion,  not  that  the  former  play  is  founded  upon  any 
idea  borrowed  from  the  latter,  but  that  it  has  been  writ- 
ten  under  an  influence  exercised  by  the  older  author 
upon  the  younger.  Brandes  invariably  criticises  my 
work  in  such  a  friendly  spirit  that  I  have  all  reason  to 
be  obliged  to  him  for  this  suggestion,  as  for  so  much  else. 
1  Heinrich  von  Kleist,  Henrik  Hertz,  Henrik  Ibsen. 


PREFACE  TO  THE  SECOND  EDITION    201 

Nevertheless  I  must  maintain  that  he,  too,  is  in  this 
instance  mistaken.  I  have  never  specially  admired  Hen- 
rik  Hertz  as  a  dramatist.  Hence  it  is  impossible  for  me 
to  believe  that  he  should,  unknown  to  myself,  have  been 
able  to  exercise  any  influence  on  my  dramatic  production. 

As  regards  this  point,  and  the  matter  in  general,  I 
might  confine  myself  to  referring  those  interested  to  the 
writings  of  Dr.  Valfrid  Vasenius,  lecturer  on  ^Esthetics  at 
the  University  of  Helsingfors.  In  the  thesis  which  gained 
him  his  degree  of  Doctor  of  Philosophy,  Henrik  Ibsen's 
Dramatic  Poetry  in  its  First  Stage  (1879),  and  also  in 
Henrik  Ibsen:  The  Portrait  of  a  Skald  (Jos.  Seligman  & 
Co.,  Stockholm,  1882),  Vasenius  states  and  supports  his 
views  on  the  subject  of  the  play  at  present  in  question, 
supplementing  them  in  the  latter  work  by  what  I  told 
him,  very  briefly,  when  we  were  together  at  Munich  three 
years  ago. 

But,  to  prevent  all  misconception,  I  will  now  myself 
give  a  short  account  of  the  origin  of  Tfie  Feast  at  Solhoug. 

I  began  this  Preface  with  the  statement  that  The  Feast 
at  Solhoug  was  written  in  the  summer  of  1855. 

In  1854  I  had  written  Lady  Inger  of  Ostrat.  This  was 
a  task  which  had  obliged  me  to  devote  much  attention  to 
the  literature  and  history  of  Norway  during  the  Middle 
Ages,  especially  the  latter  part  of  that  period.  I  did  my 
utmost  to  familiarise  myself  with  the  manners  and  cus- 
toms, with  the  emotions,  thoughts,  and  language,  of  the 
men  of  those  days. 

The  period,  however,  is  not  one  over  which  the  stu- 
dent is  tempted  to  linger,  nor  does  it  present  much  mate- 
rial suitable  for  dramatic  treatment. 


202  THE   FEAST  AT  SOLHOUG 

Consequently  I  soon  deserted  it  for  the  Saga  period. 
But  the  Sagas  of  the  Kings,  and  in  general  the  more 
strictly  historical  traditions  of  that  far-off  age,  did  not 
attract  me  greatly;  at  that  time  I  was  unable  to  put  the 
quarrels  between  kings  and  chieftains,  parties  and  clans, 
to  any  dramatic  purpose.     This  was  to  happen  later. 

In  the  Icelandic  "family"  Sagas,  on  the  other  hand, 
I  found  in  abundance  what  I  required  in  the  shape  of 
human  garb  for  the  moods,  conceptions,  and  thoughts 
which  at  that  time  occupied  me,  or  were,  at  least,  more 
or  less  distinctly  present  in  my  mind.  With  these  Old- 
Norse  contributions  to  the  personal  history  of  our  Saga 
period  I  had  had  no  previous  acquaintance ;  I  had  hardly 
so  much  as  heard  them  named.  But  now  N.  M.  Peter- 
sen's excellent  translation — excellent,  at  least,  as  far  as 
the  style  is  concerned— fell  into  my  hands.  In  the  pages 
of  these  family  chronicles,  with  their  variety  of  scenes 
and  of  relations  between  man  and  man,  between  woman 
and  woman,  in  short,  between  human  being  and  human 
being,  there  met  me  a  personal,  eventful,  really  living  life; 
and  as  the  result  of  my  intercourse  with  all  these  distinctly 
individual  men  and  women,  there  presented  themselves 
to  my  mind's  eye  the  first  rough,  indistinct  outlines  of 
The  Vikings  at  Helg eland. 

How  far  the  details  of  that  drama  then  took  shape,  I 
am  no  longer  able  to  say.  But  I  remember  perfectly 
that  the  two  figures  of  which  I  first  caught  sight  were 
the  two  women  who  in  course  of  time  became  Hiordis 
and  Dagny.  There  was  to  be  a  great  banquet  in  the 
play,  with  passion-rousing,  fateful  quarrels  during  its 
course.     Of  other  characters  and  passions,  and  situations 


PREFACE  TO  THE  SECOND  EDITION    203 

produced  by  these,  I  meant  to  include  whatever  seemed 
to  me  most  typical  of  the  life  which  the  Sagas  reveal. 
In  short,  it  was  my  intention  to  reproduce  dramatically 
exactly  what  the  Saga  of  the  Volsungs  gives  in  epic 
form. 

I  made  no  complete,  connected  plan  at  that  time;  but 
it  was  evident  to  me  that  such  a  drama  was  to  be  my  first 
undertaking. 

Various  obstacles  intervened.  Most  of  them  were  of 
a  personal  nature,  and  these  were  probably  the  most 
decisive;  but  it  undoubtedly  had  its  significance  that  I 
happened  just  at  this  time  to  make  a  careful  study  of 
Landstad's  collection  of  Norwegian  ballads,  published 
two  years  previously.  My  mood  of  the  moment  was 
more  in  harmony  with  the  literary  romanticism  of  the 
Middle  Ages  than  with  the  deeds  of  the  Sagas,  with  po- 
etical than  with  prose  composition,  with  the  word-mel- 
ody of  the  ballad  than  with  the  characterisation  of  the 
Saga. 

Thus  it  happened  that  the  fermenting,  formless  design 
for  the  tragedy,  The  Vikings  at  Helgeland,  transformed 
itself  temporarily  into  the  lyric  drama,  The  Feast  at  Sol- 
houg. 

The  two  female  characters,  the  foster-sisters  Hiordis 
and  Dagny,  of  the  projected  tragedy,  became  the  sisters 
Margit  and  Signe  of  the  completed  lyric  drama.  The 
derivation  of  the  latter  pair  from  the  two  women  of  the 
Saga  at  once  becomes  apparent  when  attention  is  drawn 
to  it.  The  relationship  is  unmistakable.  The  tragic 
hero,  so  far  only  vaguely  outlined,  Sigurd|the  far-travelled 
Viking,  the  welcome  guest  at  the  courts  of  kings,  became 


204  THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG 

the  knight  and  minstrel,  Gudmund  Alfson,  who  has 
likewise  been  long  absent  in  foreign  lands,  and  has  lived 
in  the  king's  household.  His  attitude  towards  the  two 
sisters  was  changed,  to  bring  it  into  accordance  with  the 
change  in  time  and  circumstances;  but  the  position  of 
both  sisters  to  him  remained  practically  the  same  as  that 
in  the  projected  and  afterwards  completed  tragedy.  The 
fateful  banquet,  the  presentation  of  which  had  seemed 
to  me  of  the  first  importance  in  my  original  plan,  became 
in  the  drama  the  scene  upon  which  its  personages  made 
their  appearance;  it  became  the  background  against 
which  the  action  stood  out,  and  communicated  to  the 
picture  as  a  whole  the  general  tone  at  which  I  aimed. 
The  ending  of  the  play  was,  undoubtedly,  softened  and 
subdued  into  harmony  with  its  character  as  drama,  not 
tragedy;  but  orthodox  sestheticians  may  still,  perhaps, 
find  it  disputable  whether,  in  this  ending,  a  touch  of 
pure  tragedy  has  not  been  left  behind,  to  testify  to  the 
origin  of  the  drama. 

Upon  this  subject,  however,  I  shall  not  enter  further 
at  present.  My  object  has  simply  been  to  maintain  and 
prove  that  the  play  under  consideration,  like  all  my  other 
dramatic  works,  is  an  inevitable  outcome  of  the  tenor  of 
my  life  at  a  certain  period.  It  had  its  origin  within,  and 
was  not  the  result  of  any  outward  impression  or  influence 

This,  and  no  other,  is  the  true  account  of  the  genesis 
of  The  Feast  at  Solhoug. 

Henrik  Ibsen. 

Rome,  April,  1883. 


THE  FEAST  AT  SOLHOUG 

(1856) 


CHARACTERS 

Bengt  Gauteson,  Master  of  Solhoug 

Margit,  his  wife. 

Signe,  her  sister. 

Gudmund  Alfson,  their  kinsman. 

Knut  Gesling,  the  King's  sheriff. 

Erik  of  Hegge,  his  friend. 

A  House-carl. 

Another  House-carl. 

The  King's  Envoy. 

An  Old  Man. 

A  Maiden. 

Guests,  both  Men  and  Ladies. 

Men  of  Knut  Gesling's  Train. 

Serving-Men  and  Maidens  at  Solhoug. 

The  action  passes  at  Solhoug  in  the  Fourteenth  Century. 

[Pronunciation  of  Names:  Gudmund =Goodmoond.  The 
g  in  "Margit"  and  in  "Gesling"  is  hard,  as  in  "go,"  or,  in 
"Gesling,"  it  may  be  pronounced  as  y — "Yesling."  The  first 
o  in  "Solhoug"  ought  to  have  the  sound  of  a  very  long  "oo."] 


THE  FEAST  AT  SOLHOUG 

PLAY  IN  THREE  ACTS 


ACT   FIRST 


A  stately  room,  with  doors  in  the  back  and  to  both  sides. 
I?i  front,  on  tlie  right,  a  bay  window  with  small  round 
panes,  set  in  lead,  and  near  the  window  a  table,  on 
which  is  a  quantity  of  feminine  ornaments.  Along 
the  left  wall,  a  longer  table  with  silver  goblets,  beakers 
and  drinking-horns.  The  door  in  the  back  leads  out 
to  a  passage-way,1  through  which  can  be  seen  a  spa- 
cious fiord-landscape. 

Bengt  Gauteson,  Margit,  Knut  Gesling  and  Erik 
of  Hegge  are  seated  around  the  table  on  the  left.  In 
the  background  are  Knut's  followers,  some  seated, 
some  standing;  one  or  two  fiagons  of  ale  are  handed 
round  among  tliem.  Far  off  are  heard  church  bells, 
ringing  to  Mass. 

Erik. 

[Rising  at  the  table.]  In  one  word,  now,  what  answer 
have  you  to  make  to  my  wooing  on  Knut  Gesling's 
behalf  ? 

'  This  no  doubt  means  a  sort  of  arcaded  veranda  running  along 
the  outer  wall  of  the  house. 

207 


208  THE   FEAST  AT  SOLHOUG  [act  i 

Bengt. 

[Glancing  uneasily  towards  his  wife.]  Well,  I — to  me 
it  seems —  [As  she  remains  silent.]  H'm,  Margit,  let  us 
first  hear  your  thought  in  the  matter. 

Margit. 

[Rising.]  Sir  Knut  Gesling,  I  have  long  known  all 
that  Erik  of  Hegge  has  told  of  you.  I  know  full  well 
that  you  come  of  a  lordly  house;  you  are  rich  in  gold 
and  gear,  and  you  stand  in  high  favour  with  our  royal 
master. 

Bengt. 
[To  Knut.]     In  high  favour — so  say  I  too. 

Margit. 

And  doubtless  my  sister  could  choose  her  no  doughtier 
mate — 

Bengt. 

None  doughtier;  that  is  what  /  say  too. 

Margit. 
— if  so  be  that  you  can  win  her  to  think  kindly  of  you. 

Bengt. 

[Anxiously,  and  half  aside.]  Nay — nay,  my  dear  wife — 

Knut. 

[Springing  up.]  Stands  it  so,  Dame  Margit!  You 
think  that  your  sister — 


act  i]         THE   FEAST  AT  SOLHOUG  209 

Bengt. 

[Seeking  to  calm  him.]  Nay,  nay,  Knut  Gesling! 
Have  patience,  now.     You  must  understand  us  aright. 

Margit. 

There  is  naught  in  my  words  to  wound  you.  My  sister 
knows  you  only  by  the  songs  that  are  made  about  you — 
and  these  songs  sound  but  ill  in  gentle  ears. 

No  peaceful  home  is  your  father's  house. 

With  your  lawless,  reckless  crew, 
Day  out,  day  in,  must  you  hold  carouse — 

God  help  her  who  mates  with  you. 
God  help  the  maiden  you  lure  or  buy 

With  gold  and  with  forests  green — 
Soon  will  her  sore  heart  long  to  lie 

Still  in  the  grave,  I  ween. 

Erik. 

Aye,  aye — true  enough — Knut  Gesling  lives  not  over- 
peaceably.  But  there  will  soon  come  a  change  in  that, 
when  he  gets  him  a  wife  in  his  hall. 

Knut. 

And  this  I  would  have  you  mark,  Dame  Margit:  it 
may  be  a  week  since,  I  was  at  a  feast  at  Hegge,  at  Erik's 
bidding,  whom  here  you  see.  The  ale  was  strong;  and 
as  the  evening  wore  on  I  vowed  a  vow  that  Signe,  your 
fair  sister,  should  be  my  wife,  and  that  before  the  year 
was  out.  Never  shall  it  be  said  of  Knut  Gesling  that  he 
brake  any  vow.  You  can  see,  then,  that  you  must  e'en 
choose  me  for  your  sister's  husband — be  it  with  your 
will  or  against  it. 


210  THE   FEAST  AT  SOLHOUG  [act  i 

Margit. 

Ere  that  may  be,  I  must  tell  you  plain, 

You  must  rid  yourself  of  your  ravening  train. 

You  must  scour  no  longer  with  yell  and  shout 

O'er  the  country-side  in  a  galloping  rout; 

You  must  still  the  shudder  that  spreads  around 

When  Knut  Gesling  is  to  a  bride-ale  bound. 

Courteous  must  your  mien  be  when  a-f easting  you  ride; 

Let  your  battle-axe  hang  at  home  at  the  chimney-side— 

It  ever  sits  loose  in  your  hand,  well  you  know, 

When  the  mead  has  gone  round  and  your  brain  is  aglow. 

From  no  man  his  rightful  gear  shall  you  wrest, 

You  shall  harm  no  harmless  maiden; 

You  shall  send  to  no  man  the  shameless  hest 

That  when  his  path  crosses  yours,  he  were  best 

Come  with  his  grave-clothes  laden. 

And  if  you  will  so  bear  you  till  the  year  be  past, 

You  may  win  my  sister  for  your  bride  at  last. 

Knut. 

[With  suppressed  rage.]  You  know  how  to  order  your 
words  cunningly,  Dame  Margit.  Truly,  you  should  have 
been  a  priest,  and  not  your  husband's  wife. 

•     Bengt. 
Oh,  for  that  matter,  I  too  could — 

Knut. 

[Paying  no  heed  to  him.]  But  I  would  have  you  take 
note  that  had  a  sword-bearing  man  spoken  to  me  in  such 
wise — 


act  i]         THE   FEAST  AT  SOLHOUG  211 

Bengt. 

Nay,  but  listen,  Knut  Gesling — you  must  understand 
us! 

Knut. 

[As  before.]  Well,  briefly,  he  should  have  learnt  that 
the  axe  sits  loose  in  my  hand,  as  you  said  but  now. 

Bengt. 

[Softly.]  There  we  have  it!  Margit,  Margit,  this  will 
never  end  well. 

Margit. 

[To  Knut.]  You  asked  for  a  forthright  answer,  and 
that  I  have  given  you. 

Knut. 

Well,  well;  I  will  not  reckon  too  closely  with  you,  Dame 
Margit.  You  have  more  wit  than  all  the  rest  of  us  to- 
gether. Here  is  my  hand; — it  may  be  there  was  some- 
what of  reason  in  the  keen-edged  words  you  spoke  to 
me. 

Margit. 

This  I  like  well;   now  are  you  already  on  the  right 
ray  to  amendment.     Yet  one  word   more — to-day  we 
Id  a  feast  at  Solhoug. 

Knut. 

A  feast  ? 

Bengt. 

Tes,  Knut  Gesling:  you  must  know  that  it  is  our 
wedding-day;  this  day-three  years  ago  made  me  Dame 
Margit's  husband. 


212  THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG  [act  i 

Margit. 

[Jmpatietitly,  interrupting.]  As  I  said,  we  hold  a  feast 
to-day.  When  Mass  is  over,  and  your  other  business 
done,  I  would  have  you  ride  hither  again,  and  join  in  the 
banquet.     Then  you  can  learn  to  know  my  sister. 

Knut. 

So  be  it,  Dame  Margit;  I  thank  you.  Yet  'twas  not  to 
go  to  Mass  that  I  rode  hither  this  morning.  Your  kins- 
man, Gudmund  Alfson,  was  the  cause  of  my  coming. 

Margit. 

[Starts.]     He!     My  kinsman  ?     Where  would  you  seek 

him  ? 

Knut. 

His  homestead  lies  behind  the  headland,  on  the  other 
side  of  the  fiord. 

Margit. 

But  he  himself  is  far  away. 

Erik. 
Be  not  so  sure;  he  may  be  nearer  than  you  think. 

Knut. 

[Whispers.]     Hold  your  peace! 

Margit. 
Nearer  ?     What  mean  you  ? 


act  i]  THE   FEAST  AT  SOLHOUG  213 

Knut. 

Have  you  not  heard,  then,  that  Gudraund  Alfson  has 
come  back  to  Norway  ?  He  came  with  the  Chancellor 
Audun  of  Hegranes,  who  was  sent  to  France  to  bring 
home  our  new  Queen. 

Margit. 

True  enough;  but  in  these  very  days  the  King  holds 
his  wedding-feast  in  full  state  at  Bergen,  and  there  is 
Gudmund  Alfson  a  guest. 

Bengt. 

And  there  could  we  too  have  been  guests  had  my  wife 
so  willed  it. 

Erik. 

[Aside  to  Knut.]  Then  Dame  Margit  knows  not 
that—  ? 

Knut. 

[Aside.]  So  it  would  seem;  but  keep  your  counsel. 
[Aloud.]  Well,  well,  Dame  Margit,  I  must  go  my  way 
none  the  less,  and  see  what  may  betide.  At  nightfall  I 
will  be  here  again. 

Margit. 

And  then  you  must  show  whether  you  have  power  to 
bridle  your  unruly  spirit. 

Bengt. 
Aye,  mark  you  that. 

Margit. 

You  must  lay  no  hand  on  your  axe — hear  you,  Knut 
Gesling  ? 


214  THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG  [act  i 

Bengt. 

Neither  on  your  axe,  nor  on  your  knife,  nor  on  any 
other  weapon  whatsoever. 

Margit. 
For  then  can  you  never  hope  to  be  one  of  our  kindred! 

Bengt. 
Nay,  that  is  our  firm  resolve. 

Knut. 
[To  Margit.]     Have  no  fear. 

Bengt. 
And  what  we  have  firmly  resolved  stands  fast. 

Knut. 

That  I  like  well,  Sir  Bengt  Gauteson.  I,  too,  say  the 
same;  and  I  have  pledged  myself  at  the  feast-board  to 
wed  your  kinswoman.  You  may  be  sure  that  my  pledge, 
too,  will  stand  fast. — God's  peace  till  to-night! 

[He  and  Erik,  with  their  men,  go  out  at  the  back. 
[Bengt  accompanies  them  to  the  door.     The  sound  of 
the  bells  has  in  the  meantime  ceased. 

Bengt. 

[Returning.]  Methought  he  seemed  to  threaten  us  as 
he  departed.  . 

Margit. 
[Absently.]     Aye,  so  it  seemed. 


act  i]         THE   FEAST   AT  SOLHOUG  215 

Bengt. 

Knut  Gesling  is  an  ill  man  to  fall  out  with.  And, 
when  I  bethink  me,  we  gave  him  overmany  hard  words. 
But  come,  let  us  not  brood  over  that.  To-day  we  must 
be  merry,  Margit! — as  I  trow  we  have  both  good  reason 
to  be. 

Margit. 

[With  a  weary  smile.]     Aye,  surely,  surely. 

Bengt. 

'Tis  true  I  was  no  mere  stripling  when  I  courted  you. 
But  well  I  wot  I  was  the  richest  man  for  many  and  many 
a  mile.  You  were  a  fair  maiden,  and  nobly  born;  but 
your  dowry  would  have  tempted  no  wooer. 

Margit. 
[To  herself.]     Yet  was  I  then  so  rich. 

Bengt. 
What  said  you,  my  wife  ? 

Margit. 

Oh,  nothing,  nothing.  [Crosses  to  the  right.]  I  will 
deck  me  with  pearls  and  rings.  Is  not  to-night  a  time 
of  rejoicing  for  me  ? 

(Bengt. 
I  am  fain  to  hear  you  say  it.  Let  me  see  that  you 
eck  you  in  your  best  attire,  that  our  guests  may  say: 
Happy  she  who  mated  with  Bengt  Gauteson. — But  now 
must  I  to  the  larder;  there  are  many  things  to-day  that 
must  not  be  overlooked.  [He  goes  out  to  the  left. 


216  THE   FEAST   AT  SOLHOUG  [act  i 

Margit. 
Sinks  down  on  a  chair  by  the  table  on  the  right. 

'Twas  well  he  departed.     While  here  he  remains 
Meseems  the  blood  freezes  within  my  veins; 
Meseems  that  a  crushing  might  and  cold 
My  heart  in  its  clutches  doth  still  enfold. 

[With  tears  slie  cannot  repress. 
He   is  my  husband!     lam    his   wife! 
How  long,  how  long  lastg  a  woman's  life? 
Sixty  years,  mayhap — God  pity  me 
Who  am  not  yet  full  twenty-three! 

[More  calmly,  after  a  short  silence. 
Hard,  so  long  in  a  gilded  cage  to  pine; 
Hard  a  hopeless  prisoner's  lot— and  mine. 

[Absently  fingering  the  ornaments  on  the  table,  and 
beginning  to  put  them  on. 
With  rings,  and  with  jewels,  and  all  of  my  best 
By  his  order  myself  I  am  decking — 
But  oh,  if  to-day  were  my  burial-feast, 
'Twere  little  that  I'd  be  recking.  [Breaking  off. 

But  if  thus  I  brood  I  must  needs  despair; 
I  know  a  song  that  can  lighten  care.  [She  sings. 

The  Hill-King  to  the  sea  did  ride; 

— Oh,  sad  are  my  days  and  dreary — 
To  woo  a  maiden  to  be  his  bride. 

— I  am  waiting  for  thee,  I  am  weary. — 

The  Hill-King  rode  to  Sir  Hakon's  hold; 

— Oh,  sad  are  my  days  and  dreary — 
Little  Kirsten  sat  combing  her  locks  of  gold. 

— I  am  waiting  for  thee,  I  am  weary. — 


act  i]         THE   FEAST   AT  SOLHOUG  217 

The  Hill-King  wedded  the  maiden  fair; 

— Oh,  sad  are  my  days  and  dreary — 
A  silvern  girdle  she  ever  must  wear. 

— I  am  waiting  for  thee,  I  am  weary. — 

The  Hill-King  wedded  the  lily-wand, 

— Oh,  sad  are  my  days  and  dreary — 
With  fifteen  gold  rings,  on  either  hand. 

— I  am  waiting  for  thee,  I  am  weary. — 

Three  summers  passed,  and  there  passed  full  five; 

— Oh,  sad  are  my  days  and  dreary — 
In  the  hill  little  Kirsten  was  buried  alive. 

— I  am  waiting  for  thee,  I  am  weary. — 

Five  summers  passed,  and  there  passed  full  nine.; 

— Oh,  sad  are  my  days  and  dreary — 
Little  Kirsten  ne'er  saw  the  glad  sunshine. 

— I  am  waiting  for  thee,  I  am  weary. — 

In  the  dale  there  are  flowers  and  the  birds'  blithe  song; 

— Oh,  sad  are  my  days  and  dreary — 
In  the  hill  there  is  gold  and  the  night  is  long 

— I  am  waiting  for  thee,  I  am  weary. — 

[Sfie  rises  and  crosses  the  room. 

How  oft  in  the  gloaming  would  Gudmund  sing 

This  song  in  my  father's  hall. 

There  was  somewhat  in  it — some  strange,  sad  thing 

That  took  my  heart  in  thrall; 

Though  I  scarce  understood,  I  could  ne'er  forget — 

And  the  words  and  the  thoughts  they  haunt  me  yet. 

[Stops  Jwrror- struck. 


218  THE   FEAST  AT  SOLHOUG  [act  i 

Rings  of  red  gold !     And  a  belt  beside — ! 
'Twas  with  gold  the  Hill-King  wedded  his  bride! 

[In  despair;   sinks  down  on  a  bench  beside  the  table 
on  the  left. 
Woe!     Woe!     I  myself  am  the  Hill-King's  wife! 
And  there  cometh  none  to  free  me  from  the  prison  of  my 
life. 
[Signe,  radiant  with  gladness,  comes  running  in  from 
the  back. 

Signe. 

[Calling.]     Margit,  Margit, — he  is  coming! 

Margit. 
[Starting  up.]     Coming  ?     Who  is  coming  ? 

Signe. 
Gudmund,  our  kinsman! 

Margit. 
Gudmund  Alfson!     Here!     How  can  you  think — ? 

Signe. 
Oh,  I  am  sure  of  it. 

Margit. 

[Crosses  to  the  right.]     Gudmund  Alfson  is  at  the  wed- 
ding-feast in  the  King's  hall;  you  know  that  as  well  as  I. 

Signe. 
Maybe;   but  none  the  less  I  am  sure  it  was  he. 

Margit. 
Have  you  seen  him  ? 


act  i]         THE   FEAST   AT  &OLHOUG  219 

SlGNE. 

Oh,  no,  no;    but  I  must  tell  you — 

Margit. 
Yes,  haste  you — tell  on! 

SlGNE. 

'Twas  early  morn,  and  the  church  bells  rang, 

To  Mass  I  was  fain  to  ride; 

The  birds  in  the  willows  twittered  and  sang, 

In  the  birch-groves  far  and  wide. 

All  earth  was  glad  in  the  clear,  sweet  day; 

And  from  church  it  had  well-nigh  stayed  me; 

For  still,  as  I  rode  down  the  shady  way, 

Each  rosebud  beguiled  and  delayed  me. 

Silently  into  the  church  I  stole; 

The  priest  at  the  altar  was  bending; 

He  chanted  and  read,  and  with  awe  in  their  soul, 

The  folk  to  God's  word  were  attending. 

Then  a  voice  rang  out  o'er  the  fiord  so  blue; 

And  the  carven  angels,  the  whole  church  through, 

Turned  round,  methought,  to  listen  thereto. 

Margit. 
O  Signe,  say  on!     Tell  me  all,  tell  me  all! 

SlGNE. 

'Twas  as  though  a  strange,  irresistible  call 
Summoned  me  forth  from  the  worshipping  flock, 
Over  hill  and  dale,  over  mead  and  rock. 
'Mid  the  silver  birches  I  listening  trod, 


220  THE   FEAST  AT   SOLHOUG  [act  i 

Moving  as  though  in  a  dream; 

Behind  me  stood  empty  the  house  of  God; 

Priest  and  people  were  lured  by  the  magic,  'twould 

seem, 
Of  the  tones  that  still  through  the  air  did  stream. 
No  sound  they  made;  they  were  quiet  as  death; 
To  hearken  the  song-birds  held  their  breath, 
The  lark  dropped  earthward,  the  cuckoo  was  still, 
As  the  voice  re-echoed  from  hill  to  hill. 

Margit. 
Go  on. 

SlGNE. 

They  crossed  themselves,  women  and  men; 

[Pressing  her  hands  to  her  breast 
But  strange  thoughts  arose  within  me  then; 
For  the  heavenly  song  familiar  grew: 
Gudmund  oft  sang  it  to  me  and  you — 
Ofttimes  has  Gudmund  carolled  it, 
And  all  he  e'er  sang  in  my  heart  is  writ. 

Margit. 
And  you  think  that  it  may  be —  ? 

Signe. 

I  know  it  is  he! 
I  know  it!     I  know  it!     You  soon  shall  see! 

[Laughing. 
From  far-off  lands,  at  the  last,  in  the  end, 
Each  song-bird  homewards  his  flight  doth  bend! 
I  am  so  happy — though  why  I  scarce  know — ' 
Margit,  what  say  you  ?     I'll  quickly  go 


act  i]         THE   FEAST  AT  SOLHOUG  221 

And  take  down  his  harp,  that  has  hung  so  long 

In  there  on  the  wall  that  'tis  rusted  quite; 

Its  golden  strings  I  will  polish  bright, 

And  tune  them  to  ring  and  to  sing  with  his  song. 

Margit. 

[Absently.] 
Do  as  you  will — 

Signe. 

[Reproachfully.] 

Nay,  this  is  not  right. 

[Embracing  her. 
But  when  Gudmund  comes  will  your  heart  grow  light — 
Light,  as  when  I  was  a  child,  again. 

Margit. 
[To  herself.] 
So  much  has  changed — ah,  so  much! — since  then — 

Signe. 

Margit,  you   shall   be  happy  and  gay! 

Have  you  not  serving-maids  many,  and  thralls  ? 

Costly  robes  hang  in  rows  on  your  chamber  walls; 

How  rich  you  are,  none  can  say. 

By  day  you  can  ride  in  the  forest  deep, 

Chasing  the  hart  and  the  hind; 

By  night  in  a  lordly  bower  you  can  sleep, 

On  pillows  of  silk  reclined. 

Margit. 
[Looking  towards  tlie  window.] 
And  he  comes  to  Solhoug!     He,  as  a  guest! 


222  THE   FEAST   AT  SOLHOUG  [act  i 

SlGNE. 

What  say  you  ? 

Margit. 
[Turning.] 

Naught. — Deck  you  out  in  your  best. 
That  fortune  which  seemeth  to  you  so  bright 
May  await  yourself. 

SlGNE. 

Margit,  say  what  you  mean! 

Margit. 

[Stroking  her  hair.] 

I  mean — nay,  no  more!     'Twill  shortly  be  seen — ; 
I  mean — should  a  wooer  ride  hither  to-night —  ? 

Signe. 
A  wooer  ?     For  whom  ? 

Margit. 
For  you. 

Signe. 

[Laughing.] 

For  me  ? 
That  he'd  ta'en  the  wrong  road  full  soon  he  would  see. 

Margit. 

What  would  you  say  if  a  valiant  knight 
Begged  for  your  hand  ? 

Signe. 

That  my  heart  was  too  light 
To  think  upon  suitors  or  choose  a  mate. 


act  i]         THE   FEAST   AT  SOLHOUG  223 

Margit. 
But  if  he  were  mighty,  and  rich,  and  great? 

SlGNE. 

Oh,  were  he  a  king,  did  his  palace  hold 

Stores  of  rich  garments  and  ruddy  gold, 

'T would  ne'er  set  my  heart  desiring. 

With  you  I  am  rich  enough  here,  meseems, 

With  summer  and  sun  and  the  murmuring  streams, 

And  the  birds  in  the  branches  quiring. 

Dear  sister  mine — here  shall  my  dwelling  be; 

And  to  give  any  wooer  my  hand  in  fee, 

For  that  I  am  too  busy,  and  my  heart  too  full  of  glee! 

[Signe  runs  out  to  the  left,  singing. 

Margit. 

[After  a  pause.]  Gudmund  Alfson  coming  hither! 
Hither — to  Solhoug  ?  No,  no,  it  cannot  be. — Signe 
heard  him  singing,  she  said!  When  I  have  heard  the 
pine-trees  moaning  in  the  forest  afar,  when  I  have  heard 
the  waterfall  thunder  and  the  birds  pipe  their  lure  in  the 
tree-tops,  it  has  many  a  time  seemed  to  me  as  though, 
through  it  all,  the  sound  of  Gudmund's  songs  came 
blended.  And  yet  he  was  far  from  here. — Signe  has 
deceived  herself.     Gudmund  cannot  be  coming. 

[Bengt  enters  Jiastily  from  the  back. 

Bengt. 

[Entering,  calls  loudly.]  An  unlooked-for  guest,  my 
wife! 

Margit. 
What  guest  ? 


224  THE   FEAST   AT  SOLHOUG  [act  i 

Bengt. 

Your  kinsman,  Gudmund  Alfson!  [Calls  through  the 
doorway  on  the  right.]  Let  the  best  guest-room  be  pre- 
pared— and  that  forthwith! 

Margit. 
Is  he,  then,  already  here  ? 

Bengt. 

[Looking  out  through  the  passage-way.]  Nay,  not  yet; 
but  he  cannot  be  far  off.  [Calls  again  to  the  right.]  The 
carved  oak  bed,  with  the  dragon-heads!  [Advances  to 
Margit.]  His  shield-bearer  brings  a  message  of  greet- 
ing from  him;   and  he  himself  is  close  behind. 

Margit. 

His  shield-bearer!  Comes  he  hither  with  a  shield- 
bearer  ? 

Bengt. 

Aye,  by  my  faith  he  does.  He  has  a  shield-bearer 
and  six  armed  men  in  his  train.  What  would  you  ? 
Gudmund  Alfson  is  a  far  other  man  than  he  was  when 
he  set  forth  to  seek  his  fortune.  But  I  must  ride  forth 
and  receive  him.  [Calls  out.]  The  gilded  saddle  on 
my  horse!  And  forget  not  the  bridle  with  the  serpents' 
heads!  [Looks  out  to  the  back.]  Ha,  there  he  is  already 
at  the  gate!  Well,  then,  my  staff — my  silver-headed 
staff!  Such  a  lordly  knight — Heaven  save  us! — we 
must  receive  him  with  honour,  with  all  seemly  honour! 

[Goes  hastily  out  to  the  back. 


act  i]         THE   FEAST   AT  SOLHOUG  225 

Margit. 

[Brood  ing.] 

Alone  he  departed,  a  penniless  swain; 

With  esquires  and  henchmen  now  comes  he  again. 

What  would  he  ?     Comes  he,  forsooth,  to  see 

My  bitter  and  gnawing  misery  ? 

Would  he  try  how  long,  in  my  lot  accurst, 

I  can  writhe  and  moan,  ere  my  heart-strings  burst — 

Thinks  he  that — ?     Ah,  let  him  only  try! 

Full  little  joy  shall  he  reap  thereby. 

[She    beckons    through   the   doorway   on   the    right. 
Three  Jiandmaidens  enter. 
List,  little  maids,  what  I  say  to  you: 
Find  me  my  silken  mantle  blue. 
Go  with  me  into  my  bower  anon: 
My  richest  of  velvets  and  furs  do  on. 
Two  of  you  shall  deck  me  in  scarlet  and  vair, 
The  third  shall  wind  pearl-strings  into  my  hair. 
All  my  jewels  and  gauds  bear  away  with  ye! 

[Tlie  fiandmaids  go  out  to  tlie  left,  taking  the  orna- 
ments with  them. 
Since  Margit  the  Hill-King's  bride  must  be, 
Well!  don  we  the  queenly  livery! 

[Site  goes  out  to  the  left. 

[Bengt  ushers  in  Gudmund  Alfson,  through  the 
pent-house  passage  at  tJie  back. 

Bengt. 

And  now  once  more — welcome  under  Solhoug's  roof, 
my  wife's  kinsman. 

Gudmund. 

I  thank  you.     And  how  goes  it  with  her?     She  thrives 
well  in  every  way,  I  make  no  doubt  ? 


£26  THE   FEAST  AT  SOLHOUG  [act  i 

Bexgt. 

Ave.  you  may  be  sure  she  does.  There  is  nothing 
she  lacks.  She  has  five  handmaidens,  no  less,  at  her 
beck  and  call;  a  courser  stands  ready  saddled  in  the 
stall  when  she  lists  to  ride  abroad.  In  one  word,  she 
has  all  that  a  noble  lady  can  desire  to  make  her  happy 
in  her  lot. 

Gudmuxd. 

And  Margit — is  she  then  happy? 

Bexgt. 

God  and  all  men  would  think  that  she  must  be;  but, 
strange  to  say — 

Gudmuxd. 
What  mean  you  ? 

Bexgt. 

Wefl,  believe  it  or  not  as  you  list,  but  it  seems  to  me 
that  Margit  was  merrier  of  heart  in  the  days  of  her 
poverty,  than  since  she  became  the  lady  of  Solhoug. 

Gudmuxd. 
[To  himself.]     I  knew  it;  so  it  must  be. 

Bexgt. 
What  say  you,  kinsman  ? 

Gudmuxd. 

I  say  that  I  wonder  greatly  at  what  you  tell  me  of  your 
wife. 


act  i]         THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG  227 

Bengt. 

Aye,  you  may  be  sure  I  wonder  at  it  too.  On  the 
faith  and  troth  of  an  honest  gentleman,  'tis  beyond  me 
to  guess  what  more  she  can  desire.  I  am  about  her  all 
day  long;  and  no  one  can  say  of  me  that  I  rule  her 
harshly.  All  the  cares  of  household  and  husbandry  I 
have  taken  on  myself;  yet  notwithstanding —  Well, 
well,  you  were  ever  a  merry  heart;  I  doubt  not  you  will 
bring  sunshine  with  you.  Hush!  here  comes  Dame 
Margit!     Let  her  not  see  that  I — 

[Margit  enters  from  tlve  left,  richly  dressed. 

Gudmund. 
[Going  to  meet  Iier.]     Margit — my  dear  Margit! 

Margit 

[Stops,  and  looks  at  him  without  recognition.]  Your 
pardon,  Sir  Knight;  but — ?  [As  though  sfie  only  now 
recognised  him.]  Surely,  if  I  mistake  not,  'tis  Gudmund 
Alfson.  [Holding  out  her  hand  to  him. 

Gudmund. 

[Without  taking  it.]  And  you  did  not  at  once  know 
me  again  ? 

Bengt. 

[Laughing.]  Why,  Margit,  of  what  are  you  thinking? 
I  told  you  but  a  moment  agone  that  your  kinsman — 

Margit. 

[Crossing  to  tlie  table  on  the  right.]  Twelve  years  is  a 
long  time,  Gudmund.  The  freshest  plant  may  wither 
ten  times  over  in  that  space. 


228  THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG  Tact  i 

GUDMUND. 

'Tis  seven  years  since  last  we  met. 

Margit. 
Surely  it  must  be  more  than  that! 

GUDMUND. 

[Looking  at  her.]  I  could  almost  think  so.  But  'tis 
as  I  say. 

Margit. 

How  strange!  I  must  have  been  but  a  child  then; 
and  it  seems  to  me  a  whole  eternity  since  I  was  a  child. 
[Throws  herself  down  on  a  chair.]  Well,  sit  you  down, 
my  kinsman!  Rest  you,  for  to-night  you  shall  dance, 
and  rejoice  us  with  your  singing.  [With  a  forced  smile.] 
Doubtless  you  know  we  are  merry  here  to-day — we  are 
holding  a  feast. 

Gudmund. 

'Twas  told  me  as  I  entered  your  homestead. 

Bengt. 
Aye,  'tis  three  years  to-day  since  I  became — 

Margit. 

[Interrupting.]  My  kinsman  has  already  heard  it. 
[To  Gudmund.]     Will  you  not  lay  aside  your  cloak? 

Gudmund. 

I  thank  you,  Dame  Margit;  but  it  seems  to  me  cold 
here — colder  than  I  had  foreseen. 


act  i]         THE   FEAST   AT  SOLHOUG  229 

Bengt. 

For  my  part,  I  am  warm  enough;  but  then  I  have  a 
hundred  things  to  do  and  to  take  order  for.  [To  Mar- 
git.]  Let  not  the  time  seem  long  to  our  guest  while  I 
am  absent.     You  can  talk  together  of  the  old  days. 

[Going. 

Margit. 

[Hesitating.]     Are  you  going  ?     Will  you  not  rather —  ? 

Bengt. 

[Laughing,  to  Gudmund,  as  he  comes  forward  again.] 
See  you  well — Sir  Bengt  of  Solhoug  is  the  man  to  make 
the  women  fain  of  him.  How  short  soe'er  the  space, 
my  wife  cannot  abide  to  be  without  me.  [To  Margit, 
caressing  lier.]  Content  you;  I  shall  soon  be  with  you 
again.  [He  goes  out  to  the  back. 

Margit. 

[To  herself.]     Oh,  torture,  to  have  to  endure  it  all. 

[A  short  silence. 

Gudmund. 
How  goes  it,  I  pray,  with  your  sister  dear  ? 

Margit. 
Right  well,  I  thank  you. 

Gudmund. 
They  said  she  was  here 


With 


230  THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG  [act  i 

Margit. 

She  has  been  here  ever  since  we — 

[Breaks  off. 
She  came,  now  three  years  since,  to  Solhoug  with  me. 

[After  a  pause. 
Ere  long  she'll  be  here,  her  friend  to  greet. 

Gudmund. 

Well  I  mind  me  of  Signe's  nature  sweet. 

No  guile  she  dreamed  of,  no  evil  knew. 

When  I  call  to  remembrance  her  eyes  so  blue 

I  must  think  of  the  angels  in  heaven. 

But  of  years  there  have  passed  no  fewer  than  seven; 

In  that  time  much  may  have  altered.     Oh,  say 

If  she,  too,  has  changed  so  while  I've  been  away? 

Margit. 

She  too  ?     Is  it,  pray,  in  the  halls  of  kings 
That  you  learn  such  courtly  ways,  Sir  Knight  ? 
To  remind  me  thus  of  the  change  time  brings — 

Gudmund. 

Nay,  Margit,  my  meaning  you  read  aright! 

You  were  kind  to  me,  both,  in  those  far-away  years — 

Your  eyes,  when  we  parted  were  wet  with  tears. 

We  swore  like  brother  and  sister  still 

To  hold  together  in  good  hap  or  ill. 

'Mid  the  other  maids  like  a  sun  you  shone, 

Far,  far  and  wide  was  your  beauty  known. 

You  are  no  less  fair  than  you  were,  I  wot; 

But  Solhoug's  mistress,  I  see,  has  forgot 

The  penniless  kinsman.     So  hard  is  your  mind 

That  ever  of  old  was  gentle  and  kind. 


act  i]         THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG  231 

Margit. 
[Choking  back  Iter  tear3.] 
Ave,  of  old — ! 

Gudmund. 

[Looks  compassionately  at  her,  is  silent  for  a  little, 
then  says  in  a  subdued  voice. 

Shall  we  do  as  your  husband  said  ? 
Pass  the  time  with  talk  of  the  dear  old  days  ? 

Margit. 

[Vehemently.] 

No,  no,  not  of  them!  [More  calmly. 

Their  memory's  dead. 
My  mind  unwillingly  backward  strays. 
Tell  rather  of  what  your  life  has  been, 
Of  what  in  the  wide  world  you've  done  and  seen. 
Adventures  you've  lacked  not,  well  I  ween — 
In  all  the  warmth  and  the  space  out  yonder, 
That  heart  and  mind  should  be  light,  what  wonder  ? 

Gudmund. 

In  the  King's  high  hall  I  found  not  the  joy 
That  I  knew  by  my  own  poor  hearth  as  a  boy. 

Margit. 
[Without  looking  at  him.] 

While  I,  as  at  Solhoug  each  day  flits  past, 
Thank  Heaven  that  here  has  my  lot  been  cast. 

Gudmund. 
'Tis  well  if  for  this  you  can  thankful  be — 


232  THE   FEAST  AT  SOLHOUG         [act  i 

Margit. 

[Veliemently.] 

Why  not  ?     For  am  I  not  honoured  and  free  ? 
Must  not  all  folk  here  obey  my  hest  ? 
Rule  I  not  all  things  as  seemeth  me  best  ? 
Here  I  am  first,  with  no  second  beside  me; 
And  that,  as  you  know,  from  of  old  satisfied  me. 
Did  you  think  you  would  find  me  weary  and  sad  ? 
Nay,  my  mind  is  at  peace  and  my  heart  is  glad. 
You  might,  then,  have  spared  your  journey  here 
To  Solhoug;   'twill  profit  you  little,  I  fear. 

Gudmund. 
What,  mean  you,  Dame  Margit  ? 

Margit. 
[Biting,] 

I  understand  all — 
I  know  why  you  come  to  my  lonely  hall. 

Gudmund. 

And  you  welcome  me  not,  though  you  know  why  I  came  ? 

[Boiving,  and  about  to  go. 
God's  peace  and  farewell,  then,  my  noble  dame! 

Margit. 

To  have  stayed  in  the  royal  hall,  indeed, 
Sir  Knight,  had  better  become  your  fame. 

Gudmund. 
[Stops.] 
In  the  royal  hall  ?     Do  you  scoff  at  my  need  ? 


act  i]         THE   FEAST   AT  SOLHOUG  233 

Margit. 

Your  need  ?     You  are  ill  to  content,  my  friend; 
Where,  I  would  know,  do  you  think  to  end  ? 
You  can  dress  you  in  velvet  and  cramoisie, 
You  stand  by  the  throne,  and  have  lands  in  fee — 

Gudmund. 

Do  you  deem,  then,  that  fortune  is  kind  to  me? 
You  said  but  now  that  full  well  you  knew 
What  brought  me  to  Solhoug — 

Margit. 

I  told  you  true! 

Gudmund. 

Then  you  know  what  of  late  has  befallen  me; — 
You  have  heard  the  tale  of  my  outlawry  ? 

Margit. 
[  Terror-struck.] 
An  outlaw!     You,  Gudmund! 

Gudmund. 

I  am  indeed. 
But  I  swear,  by  the  Holy  Christ  I  swear, 
Had  I  known  the  thoughts  of  your  heart,  I  ne'er 
Had  bent  me  to  Solhoug  in  my  need. 
I  thought  that  you  still  were  gentle-hearted, 
As  you  ever  were  wont  to  be  ere  we  parted : 
But  I  truckle  not  to  you;  the  wood  is  wide, 
My  hand  and  my  bow  shall  fend  for  me  there; 
I  will  drink  of  the  mountain  brook,  and  hide 
My  head  in  the  wild  beast's  lair. 

[On  the  point  of  going. 


234  THE   FEAST   AT  SOLHOUG  [act  i 

Margit. 
[Holding  him  back.] 

Outlawed!     Nay,  stay!     I  swear  to  you 
That. naught  of  your  outlawry  I  knew. 

Gudmund. 

It  is  as  I  tell  you.     My  life's  at  stake; 

And  to  live  are  all  men  fain. 

Three  nights  like  a  dog  'neath  the  sky  I've  lain, 

My  couch  on  the  hillside  forced  to  make, 

With  for  pillow  the  boulder  grey. 

Though  too  proud  to  knock  at  the  door  of  the  stranger, 

And  pray  him  for  aid  in  the  hour  of  danger, 

Yet  strong  was  my  hope  as  I  held  on  my  way: 

I  thought:  When  to  Solhoug  you  come  at  last 

Then  all  your  pains  will  be  done  and  past. 

You  have  sure  friends  there,  whatever  betide. — 

But  hope  like  a  wayside  flower  shrivels  up; 

Though  your  husband  met  me  with  flagon  and  cup, 

And  his  doors  flung  open  wide, 

Within,  your  dwelling  seems  chill  and  bare; 

Dark  is  the  hall;  my  friends  are  not  there. 

'Tis  well;  I  will  back  to  my  hills  from  your  halls. 

Margit. 
[Beseechingly.] 


Oh,  hear  me! 


Gudmund. 


My  soul  is  not  base  as  a  thrall's. 
Now  life  to  me  seems  a  thing  of  naught; 
Truly  I  hold  it  scarce  worth  a  thought. 


act  i]         THE   FEAST   AT  SOLHOUG  235 

You  have  killed  all  that  I  hold  most  dear; 
Of  my  fairest  hopes  I  follow  the  bier. 
Farewell,  then,  Dame  Margit! 

Margit. 

Nay,  Gudmund,  hear! 
By  all  that  is  holy — ! 

Gudmund. 

Live  on  as  before 
Live  on  in  honour  and  joyance — 
Never  shall  Gudmund  darken  your  door, 
Never  shall  cause  you  'noyance. 

Margit. 

Enough,  enough.     Your  bitterness 

You  presently  shall  rue. 

Had  I  known  you  outlawed,  shelterless, 

Hunted  the  country  through — 

Trust  me,  the  day  that  brought  you  here 

Would  have  seemed  the  fairost  of  many  a  year; 

And  a  feast  I  had  counted  it  indeed 

When  you  turned  to  Solhoug  for  refuge  in  need ! 

Gudmund. 
What  say  you —  ?     How  shall  I  read  your  mind  ? 

Margit. 
[Holding  out  Iter  hand  to  him.] 
Read  this:   that  at  Solhoug  dwell  kinsfolk  kind. 

Gudmund. 
But  you  said  of  late — ? 


236  THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG  [act  i 

Margit. 

To  that  pay  no  heed. 
Or  hear  me,  and  understand  indeed. 
For  me  is  life  but  a  long,  black  night, 
Nor  sun,  nor  star  for  me  shines  bright. 
I  have  sold  my  youth  and  my  liberty, 
And  none  from  my  bargain  can  set  me  free. 
My  heart's  content  I  have  bartered  for  gold, 
With  gilded  chains  I  have  fettered  myself; 
Trust  me,  it  is  but  comfort  cold 
To  the  sorrowful  soul,  the  pride  of  pelf. 
How  blithe  was  my  childhood — how  free  from  caret 
Our  house  was  lowly  and  scant  our  store; 
But  treasures  of  hope  in  my  breast  I  bore. 

Gudmund. 
[Whose  eyes  have  been  fixed  upon  her.] 
E'en  then  you  were  growing  to  beauty  rare. 

Margit. 

Mayhap;   but  the  praises  showered  on  me 

Caused  the  wreck  of  my  happiness — that  I  now  see. 

To  far-off  lands  away  you  sailed; 

But  deep  in  my  heart  was  graven  each  song 

You  had  ever  sung;  and  their  glamour  was  strong; 

With  a  mist  of  dreams  my  brow  they  veiled. 

In  them  all  the  joys  you  had  dwelt  upon 

That  can  find  a  home  in  the  beating  breast; 

You  had  sung  so  oft  of  the  lordly  life 

'Mid  knights  and  ladies.     And  lo!  anon 

Came  wooers  a  many  from  east  and  from  west; 

And  so — I  became  Bengt  Gauteson's  wife. 


act  i]         THE   FEAST   AT  SOLHOUG  237 

GUDMUND. 

Oh,  Margit! 

Margit. 

The  days  that  passed  were  but  few 
Ere  with  tears  my  folly  I  'gan  to  rue. 
To  think,  my  kinsman  and  friend,  on  thee 
Was  all  the  comfort  left  to  me. 
How  empty  now  seemed  Solhoug's  hall, 
How  hateful  and  drear  its  great  rooms  all ! 
Hither  came  many  a  knight  and  dame, 
Came  many  a  skald  to  sing  my  fame. 
But  never  a  one  who  could  fathom  aright 
My  spirit  and  all  its  yearning — 
I  shivered,  as  though  in  the  Hill-King's  might; 
Yet  my  head  throbbed,  my  blood  was  burning. 

Gudmund. 
But  your  husband —  ? 

Margit. 

He  never  to  me  was  dear. 
'Twas  his  gold  was  my  undoing. 
When  he  spoke  to  me,  aye,  or  e'en  drew  near, 
My  spirit  writhed  with  ruing.  [Clasping  her  hands. 

And  thus  have  I  lived  for  three  long  years: — 
A  life  of  sorrow,  of  unstanched  tears! 
Your  coming  was  rumoured.     You  know  full  well 
What  pride  deep  down  in  my  heart  doth  dwell. 
I  hid  my  anguish,  I  veiled  my  woe, 
For  you  were  the  last  that  the  truth  must  know. 

Gudmund. 
[Moved.] 
'Twas  therefore,  then,  that  you  turned  away — 


238  THE   FEAST  AT   SOLHOUG  [act  i 

Margit. 
[Not  looking  at  him.] 
I  thought  you  came  at  my  woe  to  jeer. 

Gudmund. 
Margit,  how  could  you  think — ? 

Margit. 

Nay,  nay, 
There  was  reason  enough  for  such  a  fear. 
But  thanks  be  to  Heaven,  that  fear  is  gone; 
And  now  no  longer  I  stand  alone; 
My  spirit  now  is  as  light  and  free 
As  a  child's  at  play  'neath  the  greenwood  tree. 

[With  a  sudden  start  of  fear. 
Ah,  where  are  my  wits  fled !     How  could  I  forget —  ? 
Ye  saints,  I  need  sorely  your  succor  yet! 
An  outlaw,  you  said —  ? 

Gudmund. 
[Smiling.] 
Nay,  now  I'm  at  home; 
Hither  the  King's  men  scarce  dare  come. 

Margit. 

Your  fall  has  been  sudden.     I  pray  you,  tell 
How  you  lost  the  King's  favour. 

Gudmund. 

'Twas  thus  it  befell. 
You  know  how  I  journeyed  to  France  of  late, 
When  the  Chancellor,  Audun  of  Hegranes, 
Fared  thither  from  Bergen,  in  royal  state, 
To  lead  home  the  King's  bride,  the  fair  Princess, 


act  i]         THE   FEAST  AT  SOLHOUG  239 

With  her  squires,  and  maidens,  and  ducats  bright. 
Sir  Audun's  a  fair  and  a  stately  knight, 
The  Princess  shone  with  a  beauty  rare — 
Her  eyes  seemed  full  of  a  burning  prayer. 
They  would  oft  talk  alone  and  in  whispers,  the  two — 
Of  what  ?     That  nobody  guessed  or  knew. 
There  came  a  night  when  I  leant  at  ease 
Against  the  galley's  railing; 
My  thoughts  flew  onward  to  Norway's  leas, 
With  the  milk-white  seagulls  sailing. 
Two  voices  whispered  behind  my  back; — 
I  turned — it  was  he  and  she; 
I  knew  them  well,  though  the  night  was  black, 
But  they — they  saw  not  me. 
She  gazed  upon  him  with  sorrowful  eyes 
And  whispered:  "Ah,  if  to  southern  skies 
We  could  turn  the  vessel's  prow, 
And  we  were  alone  in  the  bark,  we  twain, 
My  heart,  methinks,  would  find  peace  again, 
Nor  would  fever  burn  my  brow." 
Sir  Audun  answers;  and  straight  she  replies, 
In  words  so  fierce,  so  bold; 
Like  glittering  stars  I  can  see  her  eyes; 
She  begged  him —  [Breaking  off. 

My  blood  ran  cold. 


She  begged — ? 


Margit. 


Gudmund. 


I  arose,  and  they  vanished  apace; 
All  was  silent,  fore  and  aft; — 

[Producing  a  small  phial. 
But  this  I  found  by  their  resting  place. 


240  THE   FEAST  AT  SOLHOUG  act  i 

Margit. 
And  that — ? 

Gudmund. 
[Lowering  his  voice.] 

Holds  a  secret  draught. 
A  drop  of  this  in  your  enemy's  cup 
And  his  life  will  sicken  and  wither  up. 
No  leechcraft  helps  'gainst  the  deadly  thing. 


And  that — ? 


Margit. 

Gudmund. 
That  draught  was  meant  for  the  King. 

Margit. 


Great  God! 


Gudmund. 

[Putting  up  the  phial  again.] 

That  I  found  it  was  well  for  them  all. 
In  three  days  more  was  our  vovage  ended; 
Then  I  fled,  by  my  faithful  men  attended. 
For  I  knew  right  well,  in  the  royal  hall, 
That  Audun  subtly  would  work  my  fall, — 
Accusing  me — 

Margit. 

Aye,  but  at  Solhoug  he 
Cannot  harm  you.     All  as  of  old  will  be. 

Gudmund. 
All  ?     Nay,  Margit— you  then  were  free. 


act  i]         THE   FEAST   AT  SOLHOUG  241 

Margit. 
You  mean — ? 

Gudmund. 

I?     Nay,  I  meant  naught.     My  brain 
Is  wildered;   but  ah,  I  am  blithe  and  fain 
To  be,  as  of  old,  with  you  sisters  twain. 
But  tell  me, — Signe — ? 

Margit. 

[Points  smiling  towards  tlie  door  on  tfie  left.] 

She  comes  anon. 
To  greet  her  kinsman  she  needs  must  don 
Her  trinkets — a  task  that  takes  time,  'tis  plain. 

Gudmund. 

I  must  see — I  must  see  if  she  knows  me  again. 

[He  goes  out  to  tlie  left. 


Margit. 


[Following  him  with  her  eyes.]  How  fair  and  manlike 
he  is!  [With  a  sigh.]  There  is  little  likeness  'twixt  him 
and —  [Begins  putting  things  in  order  on  Die  table,  but 
presently  stops.]  "You  then  were  free,"  he  said.  Yes, 
then!  [A  short  pause.]  'Twas  a  strange  tale,  that  of 
the  Princess  who —  She  held  another  dear,  and  then — 
Ayr,  those  women  of  far-off  lands —  I  have  heard  it 
before — they  are  not  weak  as  we  are;  they  do  not  fear 
to  pass  from  thought  to  deed.  [Takes  up  a  goblet  which 
stands  on  tlie  table]  'Twas  in  this  beaker  that  Gud- 
mund and  I,  when  he  went  away,  drank  to  his  happy 
return.      'Tis   well-nigh   the   only    heirloom    I    brought 


242  THE   FEAST  AT  SOLHOUG  [act  i 

with  me  to  Solhoug.  [Putting  the  goblet  away  in  a  cup- 
board.] How  soft  is  this  summer  day;  and  how  light 
it  is  in  here!  So  sweetly  has  the  sun  not  shone  for 
three  long  years. 

[Signe,  and  after  her  Gudmund,  enters  from  the  left. 

Signe. 
[Runs  laughing  up  to  Margit.] 
Ha,  ha,  ha!     He  will  not  believe  that  'tis  I! 

Margit. 
[Smiling,  to  Gudmund.] 

You  see:  while  in  far-off  lands  you  strayed, 
She,  too,  has  altered,  the  little  maid. 

Gudmund. 

Aye  truly!     But  that  she  should  be —     Why, 
'Tis  a  marvel  in  very  deed. 

[Takes  both  Signe's  hands  and  looks  at  her. 
Yet,  when  I  look  in  these  eyes  so  blue, 
The  innocent  child-mind  I  still  can  read — 
Yes,  Signe,  I  know  that  'tis  you! 
I  needs  must  laugh  when  I  think  how  oft 
I  have  thought  of  you  perched  on  my  shoulder  aloft 
As  you  used  to  ride.     You  were  then  a  child; 
Now  you  are  a  nixie,  spell- weaving,  wild. 

Signe. 
[Threatening  with  her  finger.] 

Beware!     If  the  nixie's  ire  you  awaken, 
Soon  in  her  nets  you  will  find  yourself  taken. 


act  i]         THE   FEAST  AT  SOLHOUG  243 

GUDMUND. 

[To  himself.] 
I  am  snared  already,  it  seems  to  me. 

Signe. 

But,  Gudmund,  wait — you  have  still  to  see 
How  I've  shielded  your  harp  from  the  dust  and  the  rust. 

[As  sfie  goes  out  to  the  left. 
You  shall  teach  me  all  of  your" songs!     You  must! 

Gudmund. 

[Softly,  as  fie  follows  her  with  his  eyes.] 

She  has  flushed  to  the  loveliest  rose  of  May, 
That  was  yet  but  a  bud  in  the  morning's  ray. 

Signe. 

[Returning  with  tfie  fiarp.] 
Behold! 

Gudmund. 

[Taking  it.] 

My  harp!     As  bright  as  of  yore! 

[Striking  one  or  two  chords. 
Still  the  old  chords  ring  sweet  and  clear — 
On  the  wall,  untouched,  thou  shalt  hang  no  more. 

Margit. 
[Looking  out  at  the  back.] 
Our  guests  are  coming. 

Signe. 
[While  Gudmund  preludes  his  song.] 

Hush — hush!     Oh,  hear! 


244  THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG  [act  i 

GUDMUND. 

[Sings.] 

I  roamed  through  the  uplands  so  heavy  of  cheer; 
The  little  birds  quavered  in  bush  and  in  brere; 
The  little  birds  quavered,  around  and  above: 
Wouldst  know  of  the  sowing  and  growing  of  love  ? 

It  grows  like  the  oak  tree  through  slow- rolling  years; 
'Tis  nourished  by  dreams,  and  by  songs,  and  by  tears;  ! 
But  swiftly  'tis  sown;  ere  a  moment  speeds  by, 
Deep,  deep  in  the  heart  love  is  rooted  for  aye. 

[As  he  strikes  the  concluding  chords,  he  goes  towards 
the  back,  where  lie  lays  down  his  harp. 

Signe. 

[Thoughtfidly,  repeats  to  herself.] 

But  swiftly  'tis  sown;    ere  a  moment  speeds  by, 
Deep,  deep  in  the  heart  love  is  rooted  for  aye. 

Margit. 

[Absently.]     Did   you   speak    to    me? — I    heard    not 
clearly —  ? 

Signe. 

I  ?     No,  no.     I  only  meant — 

[She  again  becomes  absorbed  in  dreams. 

Margit. 

[Half  aloud;  looking  straight  before  Iter.] 

It  grows  like  the  oak  tree  through  slow-rolling  years; 
'Tis  nourished  by  dreams,  and  by  songs  and  by  tears. 


act  i]         THE   FEAST  AT  SOLHOUG  245 

SlGNE. 

[Returning  to  herself.]     You  said  that — ? 

Margit. 

[Drawing  her  hand  over  her  brow.]     Nay,  'twas  noth- 
ing.    Come,  we  must  go  meet  our  guests. 

[Bengt  enters  with  many  Guests,  both  men  and 
women,  through  tfie  passage-way. 

Guests. 
[Sing.] 

With  song  and  harping  enter  we 

The  feast-hall  opened  wide; 
Peace  to  our  hostess  kind  and  free, 

All  happiness  to  her  betide. 
O'er  Solhoug's  roof  for  ever  may 

Bright  as  to-day 

The  heavens  abide. 


ACT  SECOND 

A  birch  grove  adjoining  the  house,  one  corner  of  which  is 
seen  to  tlie  left.  At  the  back,  a  footpath  leads  up  the 
hillside.  To  tlie  right  of  tlie  footpath  a  river  comes 
tumbling  down  a  ravine  and  loses  itself  among 
boulders  and  stones.  It  is  a  light  summer  evening. 
The  door  leading  to  the  house  stands  open;  the  win- 
dows are  lighted  up.     Music  is  heard  from  ivithin. 

The  Guests. 

[Singing  in  the  Feast  Hall.] 

Set  bow  to  fiddle!     To  sound  of  strings 
We'll  dance  till  night  shall  furl  her  wings, 

Through  the  long  hours  glad  and  golden! 
Like  blood-red  blossom  the  maiden  glows — 
Come,  bold  young  wooer,  and  hold  the  rose 

In  a  soft  embrace  enf olden. 
[Knut  Gesling  and  Erik  of  Hegge  enter  from  tlie 

house:    Sounds  of  music,  dancing  and  merrimet 

are  heard  from  within  during  what  follows. 

Erik. 
If  only  you  come  not  to  repent  it,  Knut. 

Knut. 
That  is  my  affair. 

246 


act  ii]        THE   FEAST   AT  SOLHOUG  247 

Erik. 

Well,  say  what  you  will,  'tis  a  daring  move.  You  are 
the  King's  Sheriff.  Commands  go  forth  to  you  that  you 
shall  seize  the  person  of  Gudmund  Alfson,  wherever  you 
may  find  him.  And  now,  when  you  have  him  in  your 
grasp,  you  proffer  him  your  friendship,  and  let  him  go 
freely,  whithersoever  he  will. 

Knut. 

I  know  what  I  am  doing.  I  sought  him  in  his  own 
dwelling,  hut  there  he  was  not  to  be  found.  If,  now, 
I  went  about  to  seize  him  here — think  you  that  Dame 
Margit  would  be  minded  to  give  me  Signe  to  wife? 

Erik. 

[With  deliberation.]  No,  by  fair  means  it  might 
scarcely  be,  but — 

kKNUT. 
Lnd  by  foul  means  I  am  loth  to  proceed.  Moreover, 
dmund  is  my  friend  from  bygone  days;  and  he  can 
be  helpful  to  me.  [With  decision.]  Therefore  it  shall 
be  as  I  have  said.  This  evening  no  one  at  Solhoug  shall 
know  that  Gudmund  Alfson  is  an  outlaw; — to-morrow 
he  must  look  to  himself. 

Erik. 
Aye,  but  the  King's  decree  ? 

Knut. 

Oh,  the  King's  decree!  You  know  as  well  as  I  that 
the  King's  decree  is  but  little  heeded  here  in  the  up- 
lands.    Were  the  King's  decree  to  be  enforced,  many  a 


248  THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG         [act  ii 

stout  fellow  among  us  would  have  to  pay  dear  both  for 

bride-rape  and  for  man-slaying.    Come  this  way,  I  would 

fain  know  where  Signe — ?         [They  go. out  to  the  right. 

[Gudmund  and  Signe  come  down  the  footpath  at  the 

back. 

Signe. 

Oh,  speak !     Say  on !     For  sweeter  far 
Such  words  than  sweetest  music  are. 

Gubmund. 
Signe,  my  flower,  my  lily  fair! 

Signe. 
[In  subdued,  but  happy  wonderment.] 
I  am  dear  to  him — I! 

Gudmund. 
As  none  other  I  swear. 

Signe. 

And  is  it  I  that  can  bind  your  will ! 
And  is  it  I  that  your  heart  can  fill! 
Oh,  dare  I  believe  you  ? 

Gudmund. 

Indeed  you  may. 
List  to  me,  Signe!     The  years  sped  away, 
But  faithful  was  I  in  my  thoughts  to  you, 
My  fairest  flowers,  ye  sisters  two. 
My  own  heart  I  could  not  clearly  read. 
When  I  left,  my  Signe  was  but  a  child, 
A  fairy  elf,  like  the  creatures  wild 
Who  play,  while  we  sleep,  in  wood  and  mead. 


act  ii]        THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG  249 

But  in  Solhoug's  hall  to-day,  right  loud 

My  heart  spake,  and  right  clearly; 

It  told  me  that  Margit's  a  lady  proud, 

Whilst  you're  the  sweet  maiden  I  love  most  dearly. 

SlGNE. 

[Who  has  only  Iialf  listened  to  his  words. .] 

I  mind  me,  we  sat  in  the  hearth's  red  glow, 

One  winter  evening — 'tis  long  ago — 

And  you  sang  to  me  of  the  maiden  fair 

Whom  the  neckan  had  lured  to  his  watery  lair. 

There  she  forgot  both  father  and  mother, 

There  she  forgot  both  sister  and  brother; 

Heaven  and  earth  and  her  Christian  speech, 

And  her  God,  she  forgot  them  all  and  each. 

But  close  by  the  strand  a  stripling  stood 

And  he  was  heartsore  and  heavy  of  mood. 

He  struck  from  his  harpstrings*  notes  of  woe, 

That  wide  o'er  the  waters  rang  loud,  rang  low. 

The  spell-bound  maid  in  the  tarn  so  deep, 

His  strains  awoke  from  her  heavy  sleep. 

The  neckan  must  grant  her  release  from  his  rule, 

She  rose  through  the  lilies  afloat  on  the  pool — 

Then  looked  she  to  heaven  while  on  green  earth  she  trod, 

And  wakened  once  more  to  her  faith  and  her  God. 

Gudmund. 
Signe,  my  fairest  of  flowers! 

Signe. 

It  seems 
That  I,  too,  have  lived  in  a  world  of  dreams. 
But  the  strange  deep  words  you  to-night  have  spoken, 


250  THE   FEAST  AT  SOLHOUG       [act  ii 

Of  the  power  of  love,  have  my  slumber  broken. 

The  heavens  seemed  never  so  blue  to  me, 

Never  the  world  so  fair; 

I  can  understand,  as  I  roam  with  thee, 

The  song  of  the  birds  in  air. 

GUDMUND. 

So  mighty  is  love — it  stirs  in  the  breast 
Thoughts  and  longings  and  happy  unrest. 
But  come,  let  us  both  to  your  sister  go. 

Signe. 
Would  you  tell  her —  ? 

GUDMUND. 

Everything  she  must  know. 

Signe. 

Then  go  you  alone;— I  feel  that  my  cheek 
Would  be  hot  with  blushes  to  hear  you  speak. 

Gudmund. 
So  be  it,  I  go. 

Signe. 

And  here  will  I  bide; 

[Listening  towards  the  right. 
Or  better — down  by  the  riverside, 
I  hear  Knut  Gesling,  with  maidens  and  men. 

Gudmund. 
There  will  you  stay  ? 


act  ii]        THE   FEAST   AT  SOLHOUG  251 

SlGNE. 

Till  you  come  again. 
[She  goes  out  to  tfie  right.     Gudmund  goes  into  the 
house. 
[Margit  enters  from  behind  tJie  Jwuse  on  the  left. 

Margit. 

In  the  hall  there  is  gladness  and  revelry; 
The  dancers  foot  it  with  jest  and  glee. 
The  air  weighed  hot  on  my  brow  and  breast; 
For  Gudmund,  he  was  not  there. 

[Site  draws  a  deep  breath. 
Out  here  'tis  better:  here's  quiet  and  rest. 
How  sweet  is  the  cool  night  air!  [A  brooding  silence. 

That  horrible  thought!     Oh,  why  should  it  be 
That  wherever  I  go  it  follows  me  ? 
The  phial — doth  a  secret  draught  contain; 
A  drop  of  this  in  my — enemy's  cup, 
And  his  life  would  sicken  and  wither  up; 
The  leech's  skill  would  be  tried  in  vain. 

[Again  a  silence. 
Were  I  sure  that  Gudmund — held  me  dear — 
Then  little  I'd  care  for — 

[Gudmund  enters  from  tlie  house. 

Gudmund. 

You,  Margit,  here? 
And  alone?     I  have  sought  you  everywhere. 

Margit. 

Pis  cool  here.     I  sickened  of  heat  and  glare. 
See  you  how  yonder  the  white  mists  glide 
Softly  over  the  marshes  wide  ? 


252  THE   FEAST   AT  SOLHOUG        [act  ii 

Here  it  is  neither  dark  nor  light, 

But  midway  between  them —  [To  herself. 

— as  in  my  breast. 

[Looking  at  him. 
Is't  not  so — when  you  wander  on  such  a  night 
You  hear,  though  but  half  to  yourself  confessed, 
A  stirring  of  secret  life  through  the  hush, 
In  tree  and  in  leaf,  in  flower  and  in  rush  ? 

[With  a  sudden  change  of  tone. 
Can  you  guess  what  I  wish  ? 

Gudmund. 
Well? 

Margit. 

That  I  could  be 
The  nixie  that  haunts  yonder  upland  lea. 
How  cunningly  I  should  weave  my  spell! 
Trust  me — ! 

Gudmund. 
Margit,  what  ails  you  ?     Tell ! 

Margit. 
[Paying  no  heed  to  him.] 

How  I  should  quaver  my  magic  lay! 
Quaver  and  croon  it  both  night  and  day! 

[With  growing  vehemence. 
How  I  would  lure  the  knight  so  bold 
Through  the  greenwood  glades  to  my  mountain  hold. 
There  were  the  world  and  its  woes  forgot 
In  the  burning  joys  of  our  blissful  lot. 


act  ii]        THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG  253 

GUDMUND. 

Margit !     Margit ! 

Margit. 

[Ever  more  wildly.] 

At  midnight's  hour 
Sweet  were  our  sleep  in  my  lonely  bower; — 
And  if  death  should  come  with  the  dawn,  I  trow 
'Twere  sweet  to  die  so; — what  thinkest  thou? 

Gudmund. 
You  are  sick! 

Margit. 

[Bursting  into  laug flier.] 

Ha,   ha! — Let  me  laugh!     'Tis  good 
To  laugh  when  the  heart  is  in  laughing  mood! 

Gudmund. 

I  see  that  you  still  have  the  same  wild  soul 
As  of  old — 

Margit. 

[With  sudden  seriousness.] 

Nay,  let  not  that  vex  your  mind, 
Tis  only  at  midnight  it  mocks  control; 
By  day  I  am  timid  as  any  hind. 
How  tame  I  have  grown,  you  yourself  must  say, 
When  you  think  on  the  women  in  lands  far  away — 
Of  that  fair  Princess— ah,   she   was  wild! 
Beside  her  lamblike  am  I  and  mild. 
She  did  not  helplessly  yearn  and  brood, 
She  would  have  acted;    and  that — 


254  THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG        [act  n 

GUDMUND. 

'Tis  good 
You  remind  me;  straightway  I'll  cast  away 
What  to  me  is  valueless  after  this  day — 

[Takes  out  the  phial. 

Margit. 
The  phial !     You  meant —  ? 

Gudmund. 

I  thought  it  might  be 
At  need  a  friend  that  should  set  me  free 
Should  the  King's  men  chance  to  lay  hands  on  me. 
But  from  to-night  it  has  lost  its  worth; 
Now  will  I  fight  all  the  kings  of  earth, 
Gather  my  kinsfolk  and  friends  to  the  strife, 
And  battle  right  stoutly  for  freedom  and  life. 

[Is  about  to  throw  the  phial  against  a  rock. 

Margit. 
[Seizing  his  arm.] 
Nay,  hold!     Let  me  have  it — 

Gudmund. 

First  tell  me  why? 

Margit. 

I'd  fain  fling  it  down  to  the  neckan  hard  by, 
Who  so  often  has  made  my  dull  hours  fleet 
With  his  harping  and  songs,  so  strange  and  sweet. 
Give  it  me !  [  Takes  the  phial  from  his  hand. 

There !  [Feigns  to  throw  it  into  the  river. 


act  ii]        THE   FEAST   AT  SOLHOUG  255 

GUDMUND. 

[Goes  to  the  right,  and  looks  down  into  the  ravine.] 
Have  you  thrown  it  away? 

Margit. 
[Concealing  the  phial.] 

Aye,  surely!     You  saw — 

[Whispers  as  she  goes  towards  the  house. 
Now  God  help  and  spare  me! 
The  ice  must  now  either  break  or  bear  me!  [Aloud. 

Gudmund' 

Gudmund. 
[A  pproaching .] 
What  would  you  ? 

Margit. 

Teach  me,  I  pray, 
How  to  interpret  the  ancient  lay 
They  sing  of  the  church  in  the  valley  there: 
A  gentle  knight  and  a  lady  fair, 
They  loved  each  other  well. 
That  very  day  on  her  bier  she  lay 
He  on  his  sword-point  fell. 
They  buried  her  by  the  northward  spire, 
And  him  by  the  south  kirk  wall; 
And  theretofore  grew  neither  bush  nor  briar 
In  the  hallowed  ground  at  all. 
But  next  spring  from  their  coffins  twain 
Two  lilies  fair  upgrew — 
And  by  and  by,  o'er  the  roof-tree  high, 
They  twined  and  they  bloomed  the  whole  year  through. 
How  read  you  the  riddle  ? 


<*5ti  THE  FEAST  AT  SOLHOUG        [act  ii 

GUDMUND. 

[Looks  searchingly  at  her.] 

I  scarce  can  say. 

V 
Margit. 

You  may  doubtless  read  it  in  many  a  way; 
But  its  truest  meaning,  methinks,  is  clear: 
The  church  can  never  sever  two  that  hold  each  other  dear 

Gudmund. 

[To  himself.] 

Ye  saints,  if  she  should — ?     Lest  worse  befall, 

'Tis  time  indeed  I  told  her  all!  [Aloud. 

Do  you  wish  for  my  happiness — Margit,  tell! 

Margit. 

[In  joyful  agitation.] 
Wish  for  it!     I! 

Gudmund. 

Then,  wot  you  well, 
The  joy  of  my  life  now  rests  with  you — 

Margit. 

[With  an  outburst.] 
Gudmund! 

,  Gudmund. 

Listen!  'tis  time  you  knew — 

[He  stops  suddenly. 

[Voices  and  laughter  are  heard  by  the  river  bank. 

Signe  and  some  other  Girls  enter  from  the  right, 

accompanied  by  Knut,  Erik  and  several  Younger 

Men. 


act  ii]        THE   FEAST   AT  SOLHOUG  257 

Knut. 

[Still  at  a  distance.]  Gudmund  Alfson!  Wait;  I  must 
speak  a  word  with  you. 

[He  stops,  talking  to  Erik.     The  other  Guests  in 
the  meantime  enter  tJie  Iiouse. 

Margit. 

[To  herself.]     The  joy  of  his  life — !     What  else  can  he 
mean  but — !   [Half  aloud.]   Signe — my  dear,  dear  sister! 
[She  puts  fier  arm  round  Signe 's  waist,  and  tliey  go 
towards  tlie  back  talking  to  each  other. 

Gudmund. 

[Softly,  as  lie  follows  them  with  his  eyes.]  Aye,  so  it 
were  wisest.  Both  Signe  and  I  must  away  from  Sol- 
■DUg.  Knut  Gesling  has  shown  himself  my  friend;  he 
will  help  me. 

Knut. 

[Softly,  to  Erik.]  Yes,  yes,  I  say,  Gudmund  is  her 
kinsman;    he  can  best  plead  my  cause. 

Erik.' 
Well,  as  you  will.  [He  goes  into  tlie  house. 

Knut. 
[Approaching.]     Listen,  Gudmund — 

Gudmund. 

[Smiling.]  Come  you  to  tell  me  that  you  dare  no 
longer  let  me  go  free. 


258  THE   FEAST   AT  SOLHOUG        [act  ii 

Knut. 

Dare!  Be  at  your  ease  as  to  that.  Knut  Gesling 
dares  whatever  he  will.  No,  'tis  another  matter.  You 
know  that  here  in  the  district,  I  am  held  to  be  a  wild, 
unruly  companion— 

Gudmund. 

Aye,  and  if  rumour  lies  not — 

Knut. 

Why  no,  much  that  it  reports  may  be  true  enough. 
But  now,  I  must  tell  you — 

[They  go,  conversing,  up  towards  the  back. 

SlGNE. 

[To  Margit,  as  they  come  forward  beside  the  house.]  I 
understand  you  not.  You  speak  as  though  an  unlooked- 
for  happiness  had  befallen  you.    What  is  in  your  mind  ? 

Margit. 

Signe— you  are  still  a  child;  you  know  not  what  it 
means  to  have  ever  in  your  heart  the  dread  of —  [Sud- 
denly breaking  off.]  Think,  Signe,  what  it  must  be  to 
wither  and  die  without  ever  having  lived. 

Signe. 

[Looks  at  her  in  astonishment,  and  shakes  her  head.] 
Nay,  but,  Margit — ? 

Margit. 

Aye,  aye,  you  do  not  understand,  but  none  the  less — 
[They  go  up  again,  talking  to  each  other.    Gudmund 
and  Knut  come  down  on  the  other  side. 


act  ii]        THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG  259 

GUDMUND. 

Well,  if  so  it  be — if  this  wild  life  no  longer  contents 
you — then  I  will  give  you  the  best  counsel  that  ever  friend 
gave  to  friend:    take  to  wife  an  honourable  maiden. 

Knut. 

Say  you  so?  And  if  I  now  told  you  that  'tis  even 
that  I  have  in  mind  ? 

Gudmund. 

Good  luck  and  happiness  to  you  then,  Knut  Gesling! 
And  now  you  must  know  that  I  too — 

Knut. 
You  ?     Are  you,  too,  so  purposed  ? 

Gudmund. 

Aye,  truly.  But  the  King's  wrath — I  am  a  banished 
man — 

Knut. 

Nay,  to  that  you  need  give  but  little  thought.  As  yet 
there  is  no  one  here,  save  Dame  Margit,  that  knows 
aught  of  the  matter;  and  so  long  as  I  am  your  friend, 
you  have  one  in  whom  you  can  trust  securely.  Now  I 
must  tell  you — 

[He  proceeds  in  a  whisper  as  they  go  up  again. 


Signe. 

[As  she  and  Margit  again  advance.]     But  tell  me  then, 
Margit — ! 

Margit. 
More  I  dare  not  tell  you. 


260  THE   FEAST  AT  SOLHOUG        [act  ii 

SlGNE. 

Then  will  I  be  more  open-hearted  than  you.  But 
first  answer  me  one  question.  [Bashfully,  with  hesita- 
tion.] Is  there — is  there  no  one  who  has  told  you  any- 
thing concerning  me? 

Margit. 

Concerning  you  ?     Nay,  what  should  that  be  ? 

Signe. 

[As  before,  looking  downwards.]  You  said  to  me  this 
morning:    if  a  wooer  came  riding  hither — ? 

Margit. 

That  is  true.  [To  herself]  Knut  Gesling — has  he 
already —  ?     [Eagerly,  to  Signe.]     Well  ?     What  then  ? 

Signe. 

[Softly,  but  with  exultation.]  The  wooer  has  come! 
He  has  come,  Margit!  I  knew  not  then  whom  you 
meant;  but  now — ! 

Margit. 

And  what  have  you  answered  him  ? 

Signe. 

Oh,  how  should  I  know?  [Flinging  Iter  arms  round 
her  sister's  neck.]  But  the  world  seems  to  me  so  rich 
and  beautiful  since  the  moment  when  he  told  me  that 
he  held  me  dear. 

Margit. 

Why,  Signe,  Signe,  I  cannot  understand  that  you  should 
so  quickly — !     You  scarce  knew  him  before  to-day. 


act  ii]        THE   FEAST   AT  SOLHOUG  261 

SlGNE. 

Oh,  'tis  but  little  I  yet  know  of  love;   but  this  I  know 
that  what  the  song  says  is  true: 

Full  swiftly  'tis  sown;    ere  a  moment  speeds  by, 
Deep,  deep  in  the  heart  love  is  rooted  for  aye — 

Margit. 

So  be  it;  and  since  so  it  is,  I  need   no  longer  hold 
aught  concealed  from  you.     Ah — 

[She  stops  suddenly,  as  she  sees  Knut  and  Gudmund 
approaching. 

Knut. 

[In  a  tone  of  satisfaction.']     Ha,  this  is  as  I  would  have 
it,  Gudmund.     Here  is  my  hand! 

Margit. 
[To  herself.]     What  is  this? 

Gudmund. 
[To  Knut.]     And  here  is  mine!      [They  shake  hands. 

Knut. 

But  now  we  must  each  of  us  name  who  it  is — 

Gudmund. 

Good.     Here  at  Solhoug,  among  so  many  fair  women, 
I  have  found  her  whom — 

Knut. 

.  I  too.     And  I  will  bear  her  home  this  very  night,  if  it 
be  needful. 


262  THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG         [act  n 

Margit. 

[Who    has    approached    unobserved.]     All    saints    in 
heaven ! 

GUDMUND. 

[Nods  to  Knut.]     The  same  is  my  intent! 

Signe. 
[Who  has  also  been  listening.]     Gudmund! 

GUDMUND    AND    KNUT. 

[Whispering  to  each  other,  as  they  both  point  at  Signe.] 
There  she  is! 

Gudmund. 

[Starting.]     Aye,  mine. 

Knut. 

[Likewise.]     No,  mine! 

Margit. 
[Softly,  half  bewildered.]     Signe ! 

Gudmund. 
[As  before,  to  Knut.]     What  mean  you  by  that  ? 

Knut. 
I  mean  that  'tis  Signe  whom  I — 

Gudmund. 
Signe!     Signe  is  my  betrothed  in  the  sight  of  God. 


act  ii]        THE   FEAST  AT  SOLHOUG  263 

Margit. 
[With  a  cry.]     It  was  she!     No — no! 

Gudmund. 

[  To  himself,  as  lie  catclies  sight  of  her.]  Margit !  She 
has  heard  everything. 

Knut. 

Ho,  ho !  So  this  is  how  it  stands  ?  Nay,  Dame  Mar- 
git, 'tis  needless  to  put  on  such  an  air  of  wonder;  now  I 
understand  everything. 

Margit. 

[To  Signe.]  But  not  a  moment  ago  you  said — ? 
[Suddenly  grasping  the  situation.]  'Twas  Gudmund  you 
meant! 

Signe. 

[Astonished.]  Yes,  did  you  not  know  it!  But  what 
ails  you,  Margit  ? 

Margit. 

[In  an  almost  toneless  voice.]     Nay,  nothing,  nothing. 

Knut. 

[To  Margit.]  And  this  morning,  when  you  made  me 
give  my  word  that  I  would  stir  no  strife  here  to-night — 
you  already  knew  that  Gudmund  Alfson  was  coming. 
Ha,  ha,  think  not  that  you  can  hoodwink  Knut  Gesling! 
Signe  has  become  dear  to  me.  Even  this  morning  '  was 
but  my  hasty  vow  that  drove  me  to  seek  her  hand;  but 
now — 


264  THE   FEAST   AT  SOLHOUG         [act  ii 

SlGNE. 

[  To  Margit.]  He  ?  Was  this  the  wooer  that  was 
in  your  mind  ? 

Margit. 
Hush,  hush! 

Knut. 

[Firmly  and  harshly.]  Dame  Margit — you  are  her 
elder  sister;   you  shall  give  me  an  answer. 

Margit. 

[Battling  with  herself.]  Signe  has  already  made  her 
choice;— I  have  naught  to  answer. 

Knut. 

Good;  then  I  have  nothing  more  to  do  at  Solhoug. 
But  after  midnight — mark  you  this — the  day  is  at  an 
end;  then  you  may  chance  to  see  me  again,  and  then 
Fortune  must  decide  whether  it  be  Gudmund  or  I  that 
shall  bear  Signe  away  from  this  house. 

Gudmund. 
Aye,  try  if  you  dare;  it  shall  cost  you  a  bloody  sconce. 

Signe. 
[In  terror.]     Gudmund!     By  all  the  saints — ! 

Knut. 

Gently,  gently,  Gudmund  Alfson!  Ere  sunrise  you 
shall  be  in  my  power.  And  she — your  lady-love — 
[Goes  up  to  the  door,  beckons  and  calls  in  a  low  voice.] 


act  ii]        THE   FEAST  AT  SOLHOUG  265 

Erik!  Erik!  come  hither!  we  must  away  to  our  kins- 
folk. [Threateningly,  while  Erik  shows  himself  in  tlie 
doorway.]     Woe  upon  you  all  when  I  come  again ! 

[He  and  Ekik  go  off  to  tlie  left  at  the  back. 

Signe. 

[Softly  to  Gudmund.]  Oh,  tell  me,  what  does  all  this 
mean? 

Gudmund. 

[Whispering.]  We  must  both  leave  Solhoug  this  very 
night. 

Signe. 
God  shield  me — you  would — ! 

»  Gudmund. 

Say  naught  of  it!  No  word  to  any  one,  not  even  to 
your  sister. 

Margit. 

[To  herself.]  She — it  is  she!  She  of  whom  he  had 
scarce  thought  before  to-night.  Had  I  been  free,  I 
know  well  whom  he  had  chosen. — Aye,  free! 

[Bengt  and  Guests,  both  Men  and  Women,  enter 
from  tfie  house. 

Young  Men  and  Maidens. 

Out  here,  out  here  be  the  feast  arrayed, 
While  the  birds  are  asleep  in  the  greenwood  shade. 
How  sweet  to  sport  in  the  flowery  glade 
'Neath  the  birches. 


266  THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG        [act  ii 

Out  here,  out  here,  shall  be  mirth  and  jest, 
No  sigh  on  the  lips  and  no  care  in  the  breast, 
When  the  fiddle  is  tuned  at  the  dancers'  'hest, 
'Neath  the  birches. 

Bengt. 

That  is  well,  that  is  well!  So  I  fain  would  see  it!  I 
am  merry,  and  my  wife  likewise;  and  therefore  I  pray 
ye  all  to  be  merrry  along  with  us. 

One  of  the  Guests. 
Aye,  now  let  us  have  a  stave-match.1 

Many. 
[Shout.]     Yes,  yes,  a  stave-match! 

Another  Guest. 

Nay,  let  that  be;  it  leads  but  to  strife  at  the  feast. 
[Lowering  his  voice.]  Bear  in  mind  that  Knut  Gesling 
is  with  us  to-night. 

Several. 

[Whispering  among  themselves.]  Aye,  aye,  that  is 
true.  Remember  the  last  time,  how  he — .  Best  be- 
ware.      / 

An  Old  Man. 

But  you,  Dame  Margit — I  know  your  kin  had  ever 
wealth  of  tales  in  store;  and  you  yourself,  even  as  a 
child,  knew  many  a  fair  legend. 

1  A  contest  in  impromptu  verse-making. 


act  ii]        THE   FEAST   AT  SOLHOUG  267 

Margit. 

Alas!  I  have  forgot  them  all.  But  ask  Gudraund 
Alfson,  my  kinsman;  he  knows  a  tale  that  is  merry 
enough. 

Gudmund. 

[In  a  low  voice,  imploringly,]     Margit! 

Margit. 

Why,  what  a  pitiful  countenance  you  put  on!  Be 
merry,  Gudmund!  Be  merry!  Aye,  aye,  it  comes  easy 
to  you,  well  I  wot.  [Laughing,  to  tlie  Guests.]  He 
has  seen  the  huldra  to-night.  She  would  fain  have 
tempted  him;  but  Gudmund  is  a  faithful  swain.  [Turns 
again  to  Gudmund.]  Aye,  but  the  tale  is  not  finished 
yet.  When  you  bear  away  your  lady-love,  over  hill  and 
through  forest,  be  sure  you  turn  not  round;  be  sure  you 
never  look  back — the  huldra  sits  laughing  behind  every 
bush;  and  when  all  is  done —  [In  a  low  voice,  coming 
close  up  to  him]  — you  will  go  no  further  than  she  will 
let  you.     [Site  crosses  to  tlie  right.] 

Signe. 
Oh,  God!     Oh,  God! 

Bengt. 


[Going  around  among  tlie  Guests  in  high  contentment.] 
Ha,  ha,  ha!  Dame  Margit  knows  how  to  set  the  mirth 
afoot!  When  she  takes  it  in  hand,  she  does  it  much 
better  than  I. 

Gudmund. 

[To  himself.]  She  threatens!  I  must  tear  the  last 
hope  out  of  her  breast;    else  will  peace  never  come  to 


268  THE   FEAST  AT  SOLHOUG        [act  ii 

her  mind.     [Turns  to  the  Guests.]     I  mind  me  of  a  little 
song.      If  it  please  you  to  hear  it — 

Several  of  the  Guests. 

Thanks,  thanks,  Gudmund  Alfson! 

[They  close  around  him,  some  sitting,  others  standing. 
Margit  leans  against  a  tree  in  front  on  the  right. 
Signe  stands  on  the  left,  near  the  house. 

Gudmund. 
[Sings.] 

I  rode  into  the  wildwbod, 

I  sailed  across  the  sea, 
But  'twas  at  home  I  wooed  and  won 

A  maiden  fair  and  free. 

It  was  the  Queen  of  Elfland, 
She  waxed  full  wroth  and  grim: 

Never,  she  swore,  shall  that  maiden  fair 
Ride  to  the  church  with  him. 

Hear  me,  thou  Queen  of  Elfland. 

Vain,  vain  are  threat  and  spell; 
For  naught  can  sunder  two  true  hearts 

That  love  each  other  well ! 

An  Old  Man. 

That  is  a  right  fair  song.  See  how  the  young  swains 
cast  their  glances  thitherward!  [Pointing  towards  the 
Girls.]     Aye,  aye,  doubtless  each  has  his  own. 

Bengt. 

[Making  eyes  at  Margit.]  Yes,  I  have  mine,  that  is 
sure  enough.     Ha,  ha,  ha! 


act  ii]        THE   FEAST   AT  SOLHOUG  269 

Margit. 

[  To  herself,  quivering.]  To  have  to  suffer  all  this  shame 
and  scorn!     No,  no;   now  to  essay  the  last  remedy! 

Bengt. 

What  ails  you  ?     Meseems  you  look  so  pale. 

Margit. 

'Twill  soon  pass  over.  [Turns  to  the  Guests.]  Did  I 
say  e'en  now  that  I  had  forgotten  all  my  tales  ?  I  be- 
think me  now  that  I  remember  one. 

Bengt. 
Good,  good,  my  wife!     Come,  let  us  hear  it. 

Young  Girls. 
[Urgently.]     Yes,  tell  it  us,  tell  it  us,  Dame  Margit! 

Margit. 

I  almost  fear  that  'twill  little  please  you;  but  that  must 
be  as  it  may. 

Gudmund. 

[To  himself.]  Saints  in  heaven,  surely  she  would 
not—! 

Margit. 
It  was  a  fair  and  noble  maid, 
She  dwelt  in  her  father's  hall; 
Both  linen  and  silk  did  she  broider  and  braid, 
Yet  found  in  it  solace  small. 
For  she  sat  there  alone  in  cheerless  state, 
Empty  were  hall  and  bower; 


270  THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG        [act  n 

In  the  pride  of  her  heart,  she  was  fain  to  mate 

With  a  chieftain  of  pelf  and  power. 

But  now  'twas  the  Hill-King,  he  rode  from  the  north, 

With  his  henchmen  and  his  gold; 

On  the  third  day  at  night  he  in  triumph  fared  forth, 

Bearing  h  e  r  to  his  mountain  hold. 

Full  many  a  summer  she  dwelt  in  the  hill; 

Out  of  beakers  of  gold  she  could  drink  at  her  will. 

Oh,  fair  are  the  flowers  of  the  valley,  I  trow, 

But  only  in  dreams  can  she  gather  them  now! 

'Twas  a  youth,  right  gentle  and  bold  to  boot, 

Struck  his  harp  with  such  magic  might 

That  it  rang  to  the  mountain's  inmost  root, 

Where  she  languished  in  the  night. 

The  sound  in  her  soul  waked  a  wondrous  mood — 

Wide  open  the  mountain-gates  seemed  to  stand; 

The  peace  of  God  lay  over  the  land, 

And  she  saw  how  it  all  was  fair  and  good. 

There  had  happened  what  never  had  happened  before; 

She  had  wakened  to  life  as  his  harp-strings  thrilled; 

And  her  eyes  were  opened  to  all  the  store 

Of  treasure  wherewith  the  good  earth  is  filled. 

For  mark  this  well:   it  hath  ever  been  found 

That  those  who  in  caverns  deep  lie  bound 

Are  lightly  freed  by  the  harp's  glad  sound. 

He  saw  her  prisoned,  he  heard  her  wail — 

But  he  cast  unheeding  his  harp  aside, 

Hoisted  straightway  his  silken  sail, 

And  sped  away  o'er  the  waters  wide 

To  stranger  strands  with  his  new-found  bride. 

[With  ever-increasing  passion. 
So  fair  was  thy  touch  on  the  golden  strings 
That  my  breast  heaves  high  and  my  spirit  sings! 
I  must  out,  I  must  out  to  the  sweet  green  leas! 


act  ii]        THE  FEAST  AT  SOLHOUG  271 

I  die  in  the  Hill-King's  fastnesses! 

He  mocks  at  my  woe  as  he  clasps  his  bride 

And  sails  away  o'er  the  waters  wide!  [Shrieks. 

With  me  all  is  over;  my  hill-prison  barred; 
Unsunned  is  the  day,  and  the  night  all  unstarred. 

[She  totters  and,  fainting,  seeks  to  support  herself 
against  the  trutik  of  a  tree. 

Signe. 

[Weeping,  has  rushed  up  to  her,  and  takes  her  in  her 
arms.]     Margit!     My  sister! 

t 

GUDMUND. 

[At  the  same  time  supporting  her.]     Help!     Help!   she 
is  dying! 

[Bengt  and  tlie  Guests  flock  round  them  with  cries 
of  alarm. 


ACT  THIRD 

The  hall  at  Solhoug  as  before,  but  now  in  disorder  after 
the  feast.  It  is  night  still,  but  with  a  glimmer  of  ap- 
proaching dawn  in  tJie  room  and  over  the  landscape 
without. 

Bengt  stands  outside  in  the  passage-way,  with  a  beaker  of 
ale  in  his  hand.  A  party  of  Guests  are  in  the  act 
of  leaving  tJie  house.  In  the  room  a  Maid-Ser- 
vant is  restoring  order. 

Bengt. 

[Calls  to  tJie  departing  Guests.]  God  speed  you, 
then,  and  bring  you  back  ere  long  to  Solhoug.  Me- 
thinks  you,  like  the  rest,  might  have  stayed  and  slept 
till  morning.  Well,  well!  Yet  hold— I'll  e'en  go  with 
you  to  the  gate.     I  must  drink  your  healths  once  more. 

[He  goes  out. 
Guests. 

[Sing  in  the  distance.] 

Farewell,  and  God's  blessing  on  one  and  all 

Beneath  this  roof  abiding! 
The  road  must  be  faced.     To  the  fiddler  we  call: 
Tune  up!     Our  cares  deriding, 
With  dance  and  with  song 
We'll  shorten  the  way  so  weary  and  long. 
Right  merrily  off  we  go. 

[The  song  dies  away  in  the  distance. 

[Margit  enters  the  hall  by  the  door  on  the  right. 

272 


act  in]       THE   FEAST  AT  SOLHOUG  273 

Maid. 
God  save  us,  my  lady,  have  you  left  your  bed  ? 

Margit. 

I  am  well.     Go  you  and  sleep.     Stay— tell  me,  are 
the  guests  all  gone  ? 


Maid. 


No,  not  all;   some  wait  till  later  in  the  day;   ere  now 
they  are  sleeping  sound. 

Margit. 
nd  Gudmund  Alfson — ? 

Maid. 

e,  too,  is  doubtless  asleep.  [Points  to  the  right.] 
'Tis  some  time  since  he  went  to  his  chamber— yonder, 
across  the  passage. 

Margit. 

Good;  you  may  go.         [T/ie  Maid  goes  out  to  the  left. 
[Margit  walks  slowly  across  Oie  hall,  seats  herself 
by  the  table  on  the  right,  and  gazes  out  at  tfie  open 
window. 

Margit. 

To-morrow,  then,  Gudmund  will  ride  away 
Out  into  the  world  so  great  and  wide. 
Alone  with  my  husband  here  I  must  stay; 
And  well  do  I  know  what  will  then  betide. 
Like  the  broken  branch  and  the  trampled  flower 
I  shall  suffer  and  fade  from  hour  to  hour. 

[Short  pause;   she  leans  back  in  her  chair. 


274  THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG        [act  hi 

I  once  heard  a  tale  of  a  child  blind  from  birth, 

Whose  childhood  was  full  of  joy  and  mirth; 

For  the  mother,  with  spells  of  magic  might, 

Wove  for  the  dark  eyes  a  world  of  light. 

And  the  child  looked  forth  with  wonder  and  glee 

Upon  valley  and  hill,  upon  land  and  sea. 

Then  suddenly  the  witchcraft  failed — 

The  child  once  more  was  in  darkness  pent; 

Good-bye  to  games  and  merriment; 

With  longing  vain  the  red  cheeks  paled. 

And  its  wail  of  woe,  as  it  pined  away, 

Was  ceaseless,  and  sadder  than  words  can  say. — 

Oh!  like  that  child's  my  eyes  were  sealed, 

To  the  light  and  the  life  of  summer  blind — 

[She  springs  up. 
But  n  o  w — !     And  I  in  this  cage  confined! 
No,  now  is  the  worth  of  my  youth  revealed ! 
Three  years  of  life  I  on  him  have  spent — 
My  husband — but  were  I  longer  content 
This  hapless,  hopeless  weird  to  dree, 
Meek  as  a  dove  I  needs  must  be. 
I  am  wearied  to  death  of  petty  brawls; 
The  stirring  life  of  the  great  world  calls. 
I  will  follow  Gudmund  with  shield  and  bow, 
I  will  share  his  joys,  I  will  soothe  his  woe, 
Watch  o'er  him  both  by  night  and  day. 
All  that  behold  shall  envy  the   life 
Of  the  valiant  knight  and  Margit  his  wife. — 
His  wife!  [Wrings  her  hands. 

Oh  God,  what  is  this  I  say! 
Forgive  me,  forgive  me,  and  oh!  let  me  feel 
The  peace  that  hath  power  both  to  soothe  and  to  heal. 

[Walks  back  and  forward,  brooding  silently. 
Signe,  my  sister —  ?     How  hateful  'twere 


act  in]       THE   FEAST  AT  SOLHOUG  275 

To  steal  her  glad  young  life  from  her! 

But  who  can  tell  ?     In  very  sooth 

She  may  love  him  but  with  the  light  love  of  youth. 

[Again  silence;    site  takes  out  the  little  phial,  looks 
long  at  it  and  says  under  her  breath: 
This  phial — were  I  its  powers  to  try — 
My  husband  would  sleep  for  ever  and  aye! 

[Horror-struck . 
No,  no!     To  the  river's  depths  with  it  straight! 

[In  tlie  act  of  throwing  it  out  of  tlie  window,  stops. 
And  yet  I  could— 'tis  not  yet  too  late.— 

[With  an  expression  of  mingled  fwrror  and  rapture, 
whispers. 
With  what  a  magic  resistless  might 
Sin  masters  us  in  our  own  despite! 
Doubly  alluring  methinks  is  the  goal 
I  must  reach  through  blood,  with  the  wreck  of  my  soul. 
[Bengt,  with  the  empty  beaker  in  his  hand,  comes  in 
from  the  passage-way;  his  face  is  red;  he  staggers 
slightly. 

Bengt. 

[Flinging  tlie  beaker  upon  the  table  on  the  left.]  My 
faith,  this  has  been  a  feast  that  will  be  the  talk  of  the 
country.  [Sees  Margit.]  Eh,  are  you  there  ?  You  are 
well  again.     Good,  good. 

Margit. 

'ho  in  tlie  meantime  has  concealed  tlie  phial.]     Is  the 
door  barred  ? 

Bengt. 

[Seating  himself  at  the  table  on  the  left.]  I  have  seen  to 
everything.     I  went  with  the  last  guests  as  far  as  the 


276  THE   FEAST   AT  SOLHOUG       [act  hi 

gates.     But  what  became  of  Knut  Gesling  to-night? — 
Give  me  mead,  Margit!     I  am  thirsty.     Fill  this  cup. 
[Margit  fetches  a  Jiagon  of  mead  from  a  cupboard. 

and  Jills  the  goblet  which  is  on  the  table  in  front  of 

him. 

Margit. 

[Crossing  to  the  right  ivith  the  Jiagon.]     You  asked 
about  Knut  Gesling. 

Bengt. 

That  I  did.     The  boaster,  the  braggart!     I  have  not 
forgot  his  threats  of  yester-morning. 

Margit. 
He  used  worse  words  when  he  left  to-night. 

Bengt. 
He  did  ?     So  much  the  better.     I  will  strike  him  dead. 

Margit. 
[Smiling  contemptuously.]     H'm — 

Bengt. 

I  will  kill  him,  I  say!  I  fear  not  to  face  ten  such 
fellows  as  he.  In  the  store-house  hangs  my  grandfather's- 
axe;  its  shaft  is  inlaid  with  silver;  with  that  axe  in  my 
hands,  I  tell  you — !  [Thumps  the  table  and  drinks.] 
To-morrow  I  shall  arm  myself,  go  forth  with  all  my  men, 
and  slay  Knut  Gesling.  [Empties  the  beaker. 

Margit. 

[To  herself.]     Oh,  to  have  to  live  with  him! 

[Is  in  the  act  of  leaving  the  room. 


act  in]       THE   FEAST  AT  SOLHOUG  277 

Bengt. 

Margit,  come  here!  Fill  my  cup  again.  [She  ap- 
proaches; he  tries  to  draw  her  down  on  to  his  knee.]  Ha, 
ha,  ha!     You  are  right  fair,  Margit!     I  love  you  well! 

Margit. 
[Freeing  herself.]     Let  me  go ! 

[Crosses,  with  the  goblet  in  her  hand,  to  the  left. 

Bengt. 

•You  are  not  in  the  humour  to-night.     Ha,  ha,  ha! 
That  means  no  great  matter,  I  know. 

Margit. 

[Softly,  as  she  fills  the  goblet.]  Oh,  that  this  might  be 
the  last  beaker  I  should  fill  for  you. 

[Site  leaves  tJie  goblet  on  tlie  table  and  is  making"  her 
way  out  to  the  left. 

Bengt 

Hark  to  me,  Margit.  For  one  thing  you  may  thank 
Heaven,  and  that  is,  that  I  made  you  my  wife  before 
Gudmund  Alfson  came  back. 

Margit. 
[Stops  at  the  door.]     Why  so  ? 

Bengt. 

Why,  say  you  ?  Am  I  not  ten  times  the  richer  man  ? 
And  certain  I  am  that  he  would  have  sought  you  for 
his  wife,  had  you  not  been  the  mistress  of  Solhoug. 


278  THE   FEAST   AT  SOLHOUG       [act  in 

Margit. 

[Dravring  nearer  and  glancing  at  the  goblet.]  Say  you 
so? 

Bengt. 

I  could  take  my  oath  upon  it.  Bengt  Gauteson  has 
two  sharp  eyes  in  his  head.     But  he  may  still  have  Signe. 

Margit. 
And  you  think  he  will — ? 

Bengt. 

Take  her?  Ay,  since  he  cannot  have  you.  But  had 
you  been  free, — then —  Ha,  ha,  ha!  Gudmund  is  like 
the  rest.  He  envies  me  my  wife.  That  is  why  I  set 
such  store  by  you,  Margit.  Here  with  the  goblet  again. 
And  let  it  be  full  to  the  brim! 

Margit. 

[Goes  unwillingly  across  to  the  right.]  You  shall  have 
it  straightway. 

Bengt. 

Knut  Gesling  is  a  suitor  for  Signe,  too,  but  him  I  am 
resolved  to  slay.  Gudmund  is  an  honourable  man;  he 
shall  have  her.  Think,  Margit,  what  good  days  we 
shall  have  with  them  for  neighbours.  We  will  go  a-visit- 
ing  each  other,  and  then  will  we  sit  the  live-long  day, 
each  with  his  wife  on  his  knee,  drinking  and  talking  of 
this  and  of  that. 

Margit. 

[Whose  mental  struggle  is  visibly  becoming  more  severe, 
involuntarily  takes  out  the  phial  as  site  says:]  No  doubt, 
no  doubt! 


act  in]       THE   FEAST   AT  SOLHOUG  279 

Bengt. 

Ha,  ha,  ha!  it  may  be  that  at  first  Gudmund  will 
look  askance  at  me  when  I  take  you  in  my  arms;  but 
that,  I  doubt  not,  he  will  soon  get  over. 

Margit. 

This  is  more  than  woman  can  bear!  [Pours  the  con- 
tents of  the  phial  into  the  goblet,  goes  to  the  window  and 
throws  out  the  phial,  then  says,  without  looking  at  him.] 
Your  beaker  is  full. 

Bengt. 

Then  bring  it  hither! 

Margit. 

[Battling  in  an  agony  of  indecision,  at  last  says:]  I 
pray  you  drink  no  more  to-night! 

Bengt. 

[Leans  back  in  his  chair  and  laughs.]  Oho!  You  are 
impatient  for  my  coming?  Get  you  in;  I  will  follow 
you  soon. 

Margit. 
[Suddenly   decided.]     Your    beaker   is    full.     [Points.] 
There  it  is.  [She  goes  quickly  out  to  the  left. 

Bengt. 
[Rising.]     I  like  her  well.     It  repents  me  not  a  whit 
that  I  took  her  to  wife,  though  of  heritage  she  owned 
no  more  than  yonder  goblet  and  the  brooches  of  her 
Wedding  gown. 

[He  goes  to  the  table  at  the  window  and  takes  the  goblet. 
[A  House-Carl  enters  hurriedly  and  with  scared  looks, 
from  tlie  back. 


280  THE   FEAST   AT  SOLHOUG       [act  hi 

House-Carl. 

[Calls.]  Sir  Bengt,  Sir  Bengt!  haste  forth  with  all  the 
speed  you  can!  Knut  Gesling  with  an  armed  train  is 
drawing  near  the  house. 

Bengt. 

[Putting  down  the  goblet.]  Knut  Gesling  ?  Who 
brings  the  tidings? 

House-Carl. 

Some  of  your  guests  espied  him  on  the  road  beneath, 
and  hastened  back  to  warn  you. 

Bengt. 

E'en  so.  Then  will  I — !  Fetch  me  my  grandfather's 
battle-axe ! 

[He  and  the  House-Carl  go  out  at  the  back. 
[Soon  after,  Gudmund  and  Signe  enter  quietly  and 
cautiously  by  the  door  on  the  right. 

Signe. 

[I?i  muffled  tones.] 

It  must,  then,  be  so! 

Gudmund. 

[Also  softly.] 

Necessity's  might 
Constrains  us. 

Signe. 

Oh!    thus  under  cover  of  night 
To  steal  from  the  valley  where  I  was  born! 

[Dries  her  eyes. 


act  in]       THE   FEAST  AT  SOLHOUG  281 

Yet  shalt  thou  hear  no  plaint  forlorn. 
'Tis  for  thy  sake  my  home  I  flee; 
Wert  thou  not  outlawed,  Gudmund  dear, 
I'd  stay  with  my  sister. 

Gudmund. 

Only  to  be 
Ta'en  by  Knut  Gesling,  with  bow  and  spear, 
Swung  on  the  croup  of  his  battle-horse, 
And  made  his  wife  by  force. 

Signe. 
Quick,  let  us  flee.     But  whither  go  ? 

Gudmund. 
Down  by  the  fiord  a  friend  I  know; 
He'll  find  us  a  ship.     O'er  the  salt  sea  foam 
We'll  sail  away  south  to  Denmark's  bowers. 
There  waits  you  there  a  happy  home; 
Right  joyously  will  fleet  the  hours; 
The  fairest  of  flowers  they  bloom  in  the  shade 
Of  the  beech-tree  glade. 

Signe. 
[Bursts  into  tears.] 
Farewell,  my  poor  sister!     Like  mother  tender 
Thou  hast  guarded  the  ways  my  feet  have  trod, 
Hast  guided  my  footsteps,  aye  praying  to  God, 
The  Almighty,  to  be  my  defender.— 
Gudmund— here  is  a  goblet  filled  with  mead; 
Let  us  drink  to  her;  let  us  wish  that  ere  long 
Her  soul  may  again  be  calm  and  strong, 
And  that  God  may  be  good  to  her  need. 

[SJie  takes  tlie  goblet  into  her  hands 


282  THE   FEAST  AT  SOLHOUG       [act  hi 

GUDMUND. 

Aye,  let  us  drain  it,  naming  her  name!  [Starts. 

Stop!  [Takes  the  goblet  from  her. 

For  meseems  it  is  the  same — 

Signe. 
'Tis  Margit's  beaker. 

Gudmund. 

[Examining  it  carefully.] 

By  Heaven,  'tis  so! 
I  mind  me  still  of  the  red  wine's  glow 
As  she  drank  from  it  on  the  day  we  parted 
To  our  meeting  again  in  health  and  glad-hearted. 
To  herself  that  draught  betided  woe. 
No,  Signe,  ne'er  drink  wine  or  mead 
From  that  goblet.     [Pours  its  contents  out  at  the  window. 
We  must  away  with  all  speed. 
[Tumult  and  calls  without,  at  ths  back. 

Signe. 
List,  Gudmund!     Voices  and  trampling  feet! 

Gudmund. 
Knut  Gesling's  voice! 

Signe. 

O  save  us,  Lord! 

Gudmund. 

[Places  himself  in  front  of  her.] 

Nay,  nay,  fear  nothing,  Signe  sweet — 
I  am  here,  and  my  good  sword. 

[Margit  comes  in  in  haste  from  the  left. 


act  in]       THE   FEAST  AT  SOLHOUG  283 

Margit. 

[Listening  to  the   noise.]     What  means  this?     Is  my 
husband — ? 

GUDMUND    AND    SlGNE. 

Margit ! 

Margit.    • 

[CatcJies  sight  of  tliem.]     Gudmund!     And  Signe!   Are 
you  here? 

Signe. 
[Going  towards  her.]     Margit— dear  sister! 

Margit. 
[Appalled,  having  seen  tlie  goblet  which  Gudmund  still 
holds  in  his  hand.]    The  goblet !    Who  has  drunk  from  it  ? 

Gudmund. 
[Confused.]     Drunk—  ?     I  and  Signe— we  meant— 

Margit. 

[Screams.]     O  God,  have  mercy!     Help!    Help'    Thev 
will  die!  ■'»     J 

Gudmund. 
[Setting  down  the  goblet.]     Margit — ! 

Signe. 
What  ails  you,  sister? 

Margit. 
[  Toivards  the  back.]     Help,  help !     Will  no  one  help  ? 
[A   House-Carl  rushes  in  from  the  passage-way. 


234  THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG       [act  hi 

House-Carl. 

[Calls  in  a  terrified  voice.]  Lady  Margit!  Your  hus- 
band— ! 

Margit. 

He — has  he,  too,  drunk — ! 

Gudmund. 
[To  himself.]     Ah!   now  I  understand — 

House-Carl. 
Knut  Gesling  has  slain  him. 

Signe. 
Slain! 

Gudmund. 

[Drawing  his  sword.]  Not  yet,  I  hope.  [Whispers  to 
Margit.]  Fear  not.  No  one  has  drunk  from  your 
goblet. 

Margit. 

Then  thanks  be  to  God,  who  has  saved  us  all! 

[She  sinks  down  on  a  chair  to  the  left.     Gudmund 
hastens  towards  the  door  at  tlie  back. 

Another  House-Carl. 

[Enters,  stopping  him.]  You  come  too  late.  Sir 
Bengt  is  dead. 

Gudmund. 

Too  late,  then,  too  late. 


act  in]       THE   FEAST  AT  SOLHOUG  285 

House-Carl. 
The  guests  and  your  men  have  prevailed  against  the 
murderous  crew.     Knut  Gesling  and  his  men  are  pris- 
oners.    Here  they  come. 

[Gudmund's  men,  and  a  number  of  Guests  and 
House-Carls,  lead  in  Knut  Gesling,  Erik  op 
Hegge,  and  several  of  Knut's  men,  bound. 

Knut. 

[Who  is  pale,  says  in  a  low  voice.]     Man-slayer,  Gud- 
mund.     What  say  you  to  that  ? 

GUDMUND. 

Knut,  Knut,  what  have  you  done? 

Erik. 
'Twas  a  mischance,  of  that  I  can  take  my  oath. 

Knut. 

He  ran  at  me  swinging  his  axe;   I  meant  but  to  defend 
myself,  and  struck  the  death-blow  unawares. 

Erik. 
Many  here  saw  all  that  befell. 

Knut. 

Lady  Margit,  crave  what  fine  you  will.     I  am  ready 
to  pay  it. 

Margit. 
I  crave  naught.     God  will  judge  us  all.     Yet  stay— one 
tinng  I  require.     Forgo  your  evil  design  upon  my  sister. 


286  THE   FEAST   AT  SOLHOUG       [act  in 

Knut. 

Never  again  shall  I  essay  to  redeem  my  baleful  pledge. 
From  this  day  onward  I  am  a  better  man.  -  Yet  would  I 
fain  escape  dishonourable  punishment  for  my  deed.  [To 
Gudmund.]  Should  you.  be  restored  to  favour  and  place 
again,  say  a  good  word  for  me  to  the  King! 

Gudmund. 

I  ?     Ere  the  sun  sets,  I  must  have  left  the  country. 
[Astonishment  amongst  the  Guests.     Erik,  in  whis- . 
pers,  explains  the  situation. 

Margit. 
[To  Gudmund.]     You  go  ?     And  Signe  with  you  ? 

Signe. 
[Beseechingly.]     Margit! 

Margit. 
Good  fortune  follow  you  both! 

Signe. 
[Flinging  her  arms  round  Margit's  neck.]    Dear  sister! 

Gudmund. 

Margit,  I  thank  you.  And  now  farewell.  [Listening.] 
Hush!     I  hear  the  tramp  of  hoofs  in  the  court-yard. 

Signe. 

[Apprehensively.]     Strangers  have  arrived. 

[A  House-Carl  appears  in  tlte  doorway  at  tlie  back. 


act  in]       THE   FEAST  AT  SOLHOUG  287 

House-Carl. 

The  King's  men  are  without.     They  seek  Gudmund 
Alfson. 

Signe. 
Oh  God! 

Margit. 
[In  great  alarm.]     The  King's  men! 

Gudmund. 

All  is  at  an  end,  then.     Oh  Signe,  to  lose  you  now — 
could  there  be  a  harder  fate  ? 

Knut. 

Nay,  Gudmund;   sell  your  life  dearly,  man!     Unbind 
us;  we  are  ready  to  fight  for  you,  one  and  all. 

Erik. 

[Looks  out.]     'Twould  be  in  vain;   they  are  too  many 
for  us. 

Signe. 
Here  they  come.     Oh  Gudmund,  Gudmund! 
[The  King's  Messenger  enters  from  the  back,  with 
his  escort. 

Messenger. 

In  the  King's  name  I  seek  you,  Gudmund  Alfson,  and 
bring  you  his  behests. 

Gudmund. 

Be  it  so.     Yet  am  I  guiltless;    I  swear  it  by  all  that 

is  holy! 


288  THE   FEAST   AT   SOLHOUG       [act  hi 

Messenger. 
We  know  it. 

GUDMUND. 

What  say  you  ?  [Agitation  amongst  those  present. 

Messenger. 

I  am  ordered  to  bid  you  as  a  guest  to  the  King's  house. 
His  friendship  is  yours  as  it  was  before,  and  along  with 
it  he  bestows  on  you  rich  fiefs. 

Gudmund. 
Signe! 

Signe. 
Gudmund! 

Gudmund 
But  tell  me—  ? 

Messenger. 

Your  enemy,  the  Chancellor  Audun  Hugleikson,  has 
fallen. 

Gudmund. 
The  Chancellor! 

Guests. 
[To  each  other,  in  a  half- whisper.]     Fallen! 

Messenger. 

Three  days  ago  he  was  beheaded  at  Bergen.  [Low- 
ering his  voice.]  His  offence  was  against  Norway's 
Queen. 


act  in]       THE   FEAST  AT  SOLHOUG  289 

Margit. 

[Placing  herself  between  Gudmund  and  Signe.] 
Thus  punishment  treads  on  the  heels  of  crime! 
Protecting  angels,  loving  and  bright, 
Have  looked  down  in  mercy  on  me  to-night, 
And  come  to  my  rescue  while  yet  it  was  time. 
Now  know  I  that  life's  most  precious  treasure 
Is  nor  worldly  wealth  nor  earthly  pleasure, 
I  have  felt  the  remorse,  the  terror  I  know, 
Of  those  who  wantonly  peril  their  soul, 
To  St.  Sunniva's  cloister  forthwith  I  go. — 

[Before  Gudmund  and  Signe  can  speak. 
Nay:  think  not  to  move  me  or  control. 

[Places  Signe's  hand  in  Gudmund's. 
Take  her  then,  Gudmund,  and  make  her  your  bride. 
Your  union  is  holy;   God's  on  your  side. 

[Waving  farewell,  she  goes  towards  the  doorway  on 
the  left.  Gudmund  and  Signe  follow  her,  she 
stops  them  with  a  motion  of  her  hand,  goes  out, 
and  shuts  the  door  behind  her.  At  this  moment 
the  sun  rises  and  sheds  its  light  into  the  hall. 

Gudmund. 

Signe — my  wife!     See,  the  morning  glow! 
'Tis  the  morning  of  our  young  love.     Rejoice! 

Signe. 
All  my  fairest  of  dreams  and  of  memories  I  owe 
To  the  strains  of  thy  harp  and  the  sound  of  thy  voice. 
My  noble  minstrel,  to  joy  or  sadness 
Tune  thou  that  harp  as  seems  thee  best; 
There  are  chords,  believe  me,  within  my  breast 
To  answer  to  thine,  or  of  woe  or  of  gladness. 


290  THE   FEAST   AT  SOLHOUG 

Chorus  of  Men  and  Women. 

Over  earth  keeps  watch  the  eye  of  light, 
Guardeth  lovingly  the  good  man's  ways, 
Sheddeth  round  him  its  consoling  rays; — 
Praise  be  to  the  Lord  in  heaven's  height! 


[act  hi 


LOVE'S   COMEDY 


LOVES   COMEDY 
INTRODUCTION 

KarligJiedens  Komedic  was  published  at  Christiania  in 
January,  1863.  The  polite  world — so  far  as  such  a  thing 
existed  at  that  time  in  the  Northern  capital — received  it 
with  an  outburst  of  indignation  not  now  entirely  easy  to 
understand.  It  has  indeed  faults  enough.  The  char- 
acter-drawing is  often  crude,  the  action,  though  full  of 
Effective  by-play,  extremely  slight,  and  the  sensational 
climax  has  little  relation  to  human  nature  as  exhibited  in 
Norway,  or  out  of  it,  at  that  or  any  other  time.  But  the 
sting  lay  in  the  unflattering  veracity  of  the  piece  as  a 
whole;  in  the  merciless  portrayal  of  the  trivialities  of  per- 
sons, or  classes,  high  in  their  own  esteem;  in  the  unex- 
ampled effrontery  of  bringing  a  clergyman  upon  the  stage. 
All  these  have  long  since  passed,  in  Scandinavia,  into  the 
category  of  the  things  which  people  take  with  their  Ibsen 
as  a  matter  of  course,  and  the  play  is  welcomed  with  de- 
light by  every  Scandinavian  audience.  But  in  1864  the 
matter  was  serious,  and  Ibsen  meant  it  to  be  so. 

For  they  were  years  of  ferment — those  six  or  seven 
which  intervened  between  his  return  to  Christiania  from 
Bergen  in  1857,  and  his  departure  for  Italy  in  1864.  He 
w.is  just  entering  on  his  intellectual  prime.  Ten  years  of 
chequered,  and  mostly  stern,  experience  had  only  ma- 

293 


294  LOVE'S   COMEDY 

hired  and  deepened  the  uncompromising  sincerity  which 
had  made  the  Grimstad  apprentice  an  Ishmael  in  his 
little  community;  had  only  turned  the  uncomfortable  boy, 
who  tried  to  "waken  Scandinavia"  to  the  bitter  need  of 
Hungary  in  1849,  into  the  man  who  was  presently  to 
waken  the  civilised  world  to  the  yet  more  appalling  verac- 
ities of  Ghosts.  The  atmosphere  of  Christiania  in  the 
fifties  was  little  calculated  to  assuage  this  temper,  and 
Ibsen's  position  brought  with  it  fresh  elements  of  prov- 
ocation. The  newly  founded  "Norwegian  Theatre,"  of 
which  he  had  accepted  the  directorship,  barely  main- 
tained itself,  in  the  very  capital  of  Norway,  against 
the  ascendancy  of  Danish  taste  and  acting,  enthroned 
then  at  the  "Christiania"  Theatre.  A  little  band  of 
'nationalists'  championed  it  valiantly  in  the  press;  but 
the  solid  phalanx  of  well-to-do  and  official  society  looked 
upon  the  nationalist  movement,  and  especially  upon  the 
nationalist  drama,  as  a  provincial  heresy;  and  the  Nor- 
wegian Theatre,  crippled  for  want  of  resources,  found 
itself  unable  to  stage  just  the  plays  which  would  most 
powerfully  have  vindicated  the  nationalist  cause.  Ibsen's 
own  Vikings  in  Helgeland,  in  particular,  rejected  as  too 
"  Norwegian  "  by  the  Danish  Theatre,  was  impracticable 
for  his  own.  The  finances  of  the  theatre  improved 
somewhat  under  Ibsen's  management,  but  it  finally  be- 
came bankrupt,  and  his  position  was  throughout  one  of 
discouragement  and  disillusion,  added  to  the  anxieties  of 
a  very  slender  income. 

It  is  likely  enough  that  this  state  of  things  did  not  ren- 
der the  director  of  the  Norwegian  Theatre  less  alive  to 
the  foibles  of  Christiania  society.     But  the  scathing  ex- 


INTRODUCTION  295 

posure  of  some  of  them  in  Love's  Comedy  sprang  from  a 
deeper  root.  Norse  nationalism,  in  the  patriotic  sense, 
had  absolutely  no  part  in  inspiring  or  provoking  the  play; 
Norse  patriots,  indeed,  were  to  be  among  the  loudest  in 
decrying  it.  Ibsen  himself,  always  more  "  Scandinavian  " 
than  Norwegian,  was  the  least  "Norse"  of  all  his  literary 
associates,  and,  keenly  as  he  recognised  the  inadequacy 
of  the  Danish  dramatic  tradition,  outgrew  with  extreme 
slowness  his  early  taste  for  the  classic  elegance  of  Danish 
perse.  As  a  student  he  had  listened  with  delight  to  the 
lectures  of  Welhaven,  the  most  Danish  of  Norwegian 
poets;  Heiberg  himself,  the  centre  of  Danish  literary  in- 
fluence in  Norway,  and  the  director  of  the  Christiania 
Theatre,  he  admired  as  a  poet;  and  the  summary  rejec- 
tion of  the  Vikings  by  the  autocratic  Dane  did  not  pre- 
vent its  author  from  commemorating  him,  upon  his 
death  three  years  later,  in  a  noble  dirge.  But  even  apart 
from  Ibsen,  the  soul  of  the  nationalist  movement  in  litera- 
ture was  something  much  more  vital  than  a  mere  pitting 
of  Norwegian  against  Danish  idiosyncrasy.  It  was  an 
attempt  to  vindicate  for  Scandinavian  poetry  the  bold 
grasp  of  realities,  the  energetic  application  of  ideas  to 
life,  the  masculine  and  expressive  beauty,  which  are 
tlie  birthright  of  every  fresh  and  original  literature,  and 
which  the  faded  Romanticism  of  Denmark  could  no 
longer  offer.  Vinje  and  Botten-Hansen,  Ibsen's  closest 
literary  associates,  had  drawn  their  literary  sustenance 
less  from  the  "  Norse  "  coryphaeus  of  the  last  generation, 
Wergeland,  than  from  Heine  and  from  Hegel.  And  both 
these  influences  left  their  mark  on  Ibsen  himself.  Heine's 
brilliant  paradoxes  appealed  to  a  poet  whose  grip  upon 


296  LOVE'S   COMEDY 

reality  was  immeasurably  firmer,  but  who  habitually 
used  truth  to  startle,  not  to  persuade.  And  Hegel's  con- 
ception of  spiritual  advance  as  a  process  in  which  self  is 
slain  in  order  that  it  may  truly  live,  helped  to  define,  if 
not  to  generate,  Ibsen's  profoundly  characteristic  doctrine 
that  "nought  abideth  but  the  lost."  The  present  drama, 
saturated  with  these  influences,  is  more  deeply  tinctured 
with  them  than  any  of  its  successors.  Falk,  the  young  poet 
who  dazzles  and  outrages  the  philistine  world,  is  a  pal- 
pably Heinesque  figure;  his  lyric  speech  matches  Heine's 
own  in  brilliance  and  in  its  daring  descents  to  prose, — 
pointed  out  with  disapproval  at  the  outset  by  the  pedant 
of  Romanticism,  Miss  Jay.  And  the  conviction  which 
leads  Falk  and  Svanhild  to  the  far  from  "comic"  climax 
of  this  Comedy  of  Love,  that  only  by  renunciation  can 
Love  survive,  this  Ibsenian  philosophy  of  love,  so  strange, 
so  repelling  to  most  readers,  was  at  least  matured  under 
the  stimulus  of  Hegel.  It  was,  from  the  vantage-ground 
— or  the  dizzy  pinnacle — of  this  conception  of  love  that 
Ibsen  looked  down  upon  the  heterogeneous  phenomena 
current  in  society  under  that  name  and  upon  the  uni- 
versal assumption  that  marriage  was  its  natural  and 
(for  the  respectable)  only  imaginable  goal. 

But  at  this  point  Ibsen's  renunciatory  idealism  was 
met  by,  and  taken  over  into,  another  current  of  thought, 
perhaps  more  fundamentally  his  own,  and  with  which 
Hegel  in  any  case  had  nothing  to  do,  for  it  ran  utterly 
counter  to  him.  The  spiritual  ascetic  who  counselled 
lovers  to  save  their  love  by  losing  it,  was  doubled  with 
an  almost  fanatical  individualist,  for  whom  marriage, 
like  every  other  form  of  social  nexus,  was  full  of  snares 


INTRODUCTION  297 

and  pitfalls  to  the  soul,  which  only  cool  and  circumspect 
intelligence  availed  to  avoid.  Into  the  suburban  draw- 
ing-rooms, accordingly,  where  the  manufacture  of  happy 
pairs  was  so  gaily  and  assiduously  carried  on,  Ibsen  pre- 
pared to  fling  his  double  paradox  that  marriage  is  the 
death  of  Love,  and  Love  the  ruin  of  marriage.  An  amaz- 
ing, Protean  thing  this  Ibsenian  Love,  which  needs  the 
agony  of  eternal  separation  to  be  completely  itself,  and 
yet  at  the  touch  of  the  routine  of  married  life  dribbles 
away;  which  triumphs  over  death  and  absence  by  the 
power  of  spiritual  vision,  and  yet  boggles  and  blunders 
purblind  in  the  management  of  a  home! 

These  ideas  were  already  simmering  in  Ibsen's  mind 
in  1858,  a  year  after  his  arrival  at  Christiania.  For  the 
present,  however,  nothing  came  of  them;  his  own  happy 
marriage  in  the  same  year  not  improbably  casting  a  little 
unphilosophical  glamour  over  the  state  of  married  lovers.1 
But  two  years  later  he  wrote  four  scenes  of  a  comedy  in 
prose,  Svanhild,  which  presents  nearly  all  the  motives  of 
the  corresponding  part  of  the  complete  play  (the  first  forty 
pages  of  Act  I.)  in  a  compact  and  summary  form.  Once 
more  the  work  was  put  by,  and  two  years  more  passed 
before  he  again  took  it  up.  But  then,  in  1862,  he  threw 
himself  upon  it  with  exuberant  energy,  entirely  rewrote 
the  fragment,  and  carried  it  through  with  unflagging  verve 
to  the  end.  A  French  critic  has  called  it  "a  lyric  satur- 
nalia," "a  debauch  of  gaiety";  and  if  it  is  sometimes 
only  his  personages  who  are  gay,  not  the  poet,  yet  none  of 

1  His  wife  however  entered  into  his  ideas;  when  the  storm  broke, 
after  the  publication  of  the  play,  she  was,  he  afterwards  wrote,  the 
one  person  who  approved  it. 


298  LOVE'S   COMEDY 

his  plays  gives  us  a  more  vivid  sense  of  having  been  writ- 
ten with  sustained  delight. 

The  secret  of  this  swift  and  effortless  execution  of  the 
purpose  he  had  so  long  dallied  with  lay  in  great  part  in 
his  having  found  a  thoroughly  congenial  form.  In  prose 
Ibsen  was  still  laborious  and  uncertain;  the  masterly  free- 
dom he  later  achieved  in  it,  but  hardly  before  the  Pillars 
of  Society,  was  won  slowly  and  at  great  cost.  But  in 
verse  he  was  born  free;  it  was  the  native  language  of  his 
mind;  in  which  he  could  "prance  and  curvet  at  will,"  as 
he  once  said  to  the  present  writer,  like  a  rider  on  a  horse 
that  knows  him.  In  verse  all  the  exuberance  of  wit  and 
poetry  which  his  earlier  prose  thwarted,  and  his  later 
sternly  refused,  had  unstinted  play.  It  was  by  their  ac- 
complished verse-craft,  as  has  been  said,  that  the  Danish 
poets  retained  his  admiration,  even  when,  in  Peer  Gynt, 
he  was  ruthlessly  shattering  all  the  academic  proprieties 
of  their  aesthetics.  Prose  had,  nevertheless,  been  the 
predominant  form  of  his  drama  since  early  in  his  Bergen 
time;  he  had  designed  it  for  this  very  play.  In  the  Feast 
at  Solhoug  (1856)  he  had  been  beguiled  back  into  verse, 
we  can  hardly  doubt,  by  the  charms  of  Hertz's  Danish 
Svend  Dyring's  House.  And  his  adoption  of  it  here  has 
been  plausibly  ascribed  to  the  impression  made  upon  him 
by  a  brilliant  piece  of  contemporary  criticism  which  he  is 
known  to  have  read,  Moller's  book  On  French  and  Dan- 
ish Comedy  (1858), — where  the  metrical  and  other  excel- 
lencies of  the  latter  are  set  in  a  very  persuasive  light. 

The  mere  change  from  prose  to  verse  thus  brought 
with  it  a  notable  efflorescence  of  style.  How  the  change 
told  may  be  illustrated  by  a  few  lines  from  the  first  pas- 


INTRODUCTION  299 

sage  of  arms  between  Falk  and  Guldstad, — the  earlier 
part  a  moderate,  the  later  an  extreme  example.  In  the 
Svanhild  it  takes  this  form: 

Guld.  As  for  the  poetry  of  your  song,  let  it  be  as  it 
will :  but  there's  a  bad  moral  running  through  it.  What 
sort  of  economy  is  it  to  let  the  sparrow  eat  the  unripe 
fruit  before  it  comes  to  anything  ?  And  then  to  let  the 
cattle  loose  in  the  flower  garden  ?  A  nice  spectacle  it 
would  be  next  spring! 

Falk.  Next  spring!  If  you  really  enjoy  the  spring, 
my  friend,  you  will  wish  for  no  other  spring  than  the  one 
you  are  in.1 

Compare,, this  with  Guldstad's  speech  (p.  314): 
'As  for  your  song,  perhaps  it's  most  poetic,"  etc., 
and  with  Falk's  following  tirade: 

"Oh,  next,  next,  next!"  etc. 
to 

"  And  God  knows  if  there's  any  resting  then  ?  " 

A  style  so  insistently  vivacious  as  that  of  the  later  ver- 
sion was  hardly  an  ideal  medium  for  drama.  But  Ibsen, 
with  all  his  joy  in  it,  is  its  master,  not  its  slave;  he  bends, 
it  to  his  purpose,  and  it  becomes  in  his  hands  a  singularly 
plastic  medium  of  dramatic  expression.  The  marble  is 
too  richly  veined  for  ideal  sculpture,  but  it  takes  the  print 
of  life.  The  wit,  exuberant  as  it  is,  does  not  coruscate 
indiscriminately  upon  all  lips;  and  it  has  many  shades 
and  varieties — caustic,  ironical,  imaginative,  playful,  pas- 
1  Ibsen,  Efterladte  Skrifter,  I.  452.  3. 


300  LOVE'S   COMEDY 

sionate — which  take  their  temper  from  the  speaker's 
mood. 

But  the  development  of  the  prose  draft  went  far  be- 
yond style.  Motives  there  just  hinted  are  expanded  into 
scenes,  and  the  too  closely  packed  dramatic  ideas  acquire 
their  due  value.  The  stoning  of  Svanhild's  bird,  instead 
of  being  told  by  her,  is  done  before  our  eyes,  and  is,  more- 
over, made  dramatically  expressive  as  Falk's  symbolic 
vengeance  for  her  supposed  betrayal.  The  persons  and 
their  characters  are  substantially  the  same;  but.  Stiver, 
the  law  clerk,  replaces  a  journalist,  and  the  personality 
of  Svanhild,  the  heroine,  is  immensely  strengthened  and 
enriched.  The  prose  Svanhild  is  little  more  than  a  pleas- 
ant Backfisch;  when  offended  with  Falk  she* will  refuse 
to  shake  hands  with  him;  but  she  is  quite  incapable  of 
the  powerful  and  subtle  home  thrusts  by  which  the  later 
Svanhild  lays  bare  the  weak  places  of  her  lover.  Still 
less  could  we  augur  for  her  the  lyrical  exaltations  of  the 
climax.  Yet  here  lay  the  essential  moment  of  the  whole 
action. 

For,  as  will  now  be  obvious,  Love's  Comedy,  with  all 
its  exuberant  wit  and  humour,  is  rooted  in  a  view  of 
life  which  is  not  "comic"  at  all.  The  laughter  that 
rings  through  it  is  not  the  genial,  tolerant  laughter  of 
the  humourist,  for  whom  the  anomalies  of  life  lie  on 
the  surface;  it  is  the  stern,  implacable  laughter  of  a 
Carlyle.  His  ridicule  of  ordinary  love-making  keeps,  in- 
deed, well  within  the  bounds  of  ordinary  comedy.  The 
ceremonial  formalities  of  the  continental  Verlobung,  the 
shrill  raptures  of  aunts  and  cousins  over  the  engaged 
pair,  the  satisfied   smile  of  enterprising  mater-familias 


INTRODUCTION  301 

as  she  reckons  up  the  tale  of  daughters  or  of  nieces 
safely  married  off  under  her  auspices;  or,  again,  the 
embarrassments  incident  to  a  prolonged  Brautstand  fol- 
lowing a  hasty  wooing,  the  deadly  effect  of  familiarity 
upon  a  shallow  affection,  and  the  anxious  efforts  to  save 
the  appearance  of  romance  when  its  zest  has  departed — 
even  the  drastic  picture  of  the  Strawmans,  Swiftian  in  its 
savagery,  whose  youthful  fire  has  been  converted  into 
ashes  and  smoke  by  the  preoccupations  of  a  fruitful 
marriage, — all  this  required  only  a  keen  eye  for  absur- 
dities, and  does  not  touch  the  core  of  Ibsen's  play. 
Camilla  Collett,  in  her  novel  the  Official's  Daughters 
(1855),  had  ridiculed  the  same  absurdities  in  the  name 
of  that  very  marriage  for  love  which  Ibsen  repudiated. 
And  these  Stivers  and  Jays,  these  Linds  and  Annas,  seem 
much  less  calculated  to  stand  as  examples  of  the  fatuity 
of  marrying  for  love,  than  as  types  of  those  who  marry 
without  understanding  what  love  is  at  all.  The  problem 
of  love,  as  Ibsen  the  poet  and  idealist  saw  it,  is  not  in- 
volved in  their  mishaps.  The  gist  of  the  action  lies 
accordingly  in  the  relations  of  the  three  central  figures, 
— Falk,  Svanhild,  and  Guldstad.  All  three,  though  full 
of  dramatic  individuality,  convey  different  aspects  of 
Ibsen's  own  thought.  Falk,  whose  brilliant  mockery  pil- 
lories the  victims  of  conventional  love-making,  himself 
contributes  to  the  comedy  by  the  fatuous  egoism  of  his 
own  first  essay  in  love.  He  is  a  poet,  and  Ibsen,  as  so 
often  elsewhere,  ridicules  in  his  creation  foibles  which  he 
knew  as  passing  impulses,  or  even  as  vanquished  tempta- 
tions, in  himself.  But  as  a  poet  he  also  represents  Ibsen's 
poetic  and  idealist  inspiration  in  all  its  phases, — passing 


302  LOVE'S   COMEDY 

through  the  whole  gamut  from  Benedick  to  Romeo,  and 
finally  to  the  purely  Ibsenian  super- Romeo  who  renounces 
in  order  to  retain.  As  Falk  applies  his  cautery  to  the 
company  at  large,  Svanhild,  with  greater  insight  and  at 
least  equal  spirit,  applies  hers  to  him.  But  she  has  noth- 
ing in  common  with  the  self-willed  "emancipated"  Re- 
bekkas  and  Hildes  of  the  future.  She  is  rather  the  em- 
bodiment of  all  that  Ibsen  in  these  years  understood  by  a 
high-souled  girl's  devotion  in  love.  Her  vision  is  as  much 
finer  and  clearer  than  Falk's  as  her  heart  is  richer;  she 
convinces  him  of  his  weakness,  and  lifts  him  to  the  height 
of  his  strength.  And  the  renunciation  is  harder  by  far 
for  her.  He  is  a  poet,  and  the  "  song  and  sun  "  with  which 
her  love  has  filled  him  will  evidently  be  no  contemptible 
quid  pro  quo  for  its  loss.  But  Svanhild's  renunciation, 
rapturous  as  it  is,  is  indeed  her  "last  song."  She  lives 
in  her  memories,  but  she  has  buried  her  happiness.  "  Not 
at  all!"  exclaims  a  chorus  of  voices,  Dr.  Brandes's  un- 
happily among  them;  "she  subsides  into  the  arms  of 
Guldstad,  who  offers  her  a  maintenance,  a  peaceful  home, 
and  ample  means."  And  the  same  critics  who  quarrel 
with  her  renunciation  as  romantically  unreal,  denounce 
the  act  which  clinches  and  completes  it  as  "philistine" 
and  prosaic.  But  Svanhild  does  not  "console"  herself 
with  <  Guldstad.  Doubtless,  to  have  indignantly  refused 
his  hand  would  have  been  to  her  advantage  with  most 
readers.  She  makes  the  more  complete  surrender  of  a 
life  devoted  to  unromantic  duty.  Having  tasted  the  su- 
preme poetry  of  life,  she  is  ready  to  face  its  prose.  She 
is,  in  short,  Ibsen's  Svanhild,  true  child  of  the  poet  of 
exalted  idealism  and  of  unflinching  matter  of  fact.     Guld- 


INTRODUCTION  303 

stad,  finally,  represents  exclusively  this  "unromantic" 
side  of  Ibsen.  Like  Antonio  in  Goethe's  Tasso,  he  con- 
fronts, and  finally  checkmates,  the  brilliant  wayward  poet 
with  the  calm  intelligence  and  strong  sense  of  the  ex- 
perienced man  of  the  world.  And  Guldstad  is  drawn 
with  yet  more  marked  sympathy  and  respect  than  An- 
tonio. He  expresses  Ibsen's  doctrine  of  marriage,  as 
Falk  and  Svanhild  his  doctrine  of  love.  When,  therefore, 
their  love,  in  defiance  of  both  doctrines,  is  on  the  point  of 
issuing  in  marriage,  the  formidable  merchant  faces  them 
with  the  double  weight  of  his  experience  and  of  their  own 
past  convictions,  and  becomes  immediately  master  of 
the  game.  But  there  is  no  triumph  in  his  success;  he 
takes  his  prize  with  tender  pity  and  sympathetic  under- 
standing; and  if  prose  in  his  person  prevails,  with  Ibsen's 
full  concurrence,  over  poetry,  it  is  prose  conscious  that  it 
is  but  the  second  best  course,  a  needful  accommodation  to 
the  world  of  facts. 

The  present  version  of  the  play  retains  the  metres  of 
the  original,  and  follows  it  in  general  line  for  line.  For  a 
long  passage,  occupying  substantially  the  first  twenty 
pages,  the  translator  is  indebted  to  the  editor  of  the  present 
work;  and  two  other  passages— Falk's  tirades  on  pp. 
366  and  408— result  from  a  fusion  of  versions  made  inde- 
pendently by  us  both. 

C.  H.  H. 


LOVE'S   COMEDY 


PERSONS  OF  THE  COMEDY 
Mrs.  Halm,  widow  of  a  government  official. 

SVANHILD,    1    ,         j  ,  . 

4  >  her  dauqhters. 

Anna,         J  ' 

Falk,  a  young  author,       }  ,      ,       , 
t  j  •   •   m      i   j         ( her  boarders. 

Lind,  a  dxvxnxty  student,  J 

Guldstad,  a  wholesale  merchant. 

Stiver,  a  law-clerk. 

Miss  Jay,  his  fiancSe. 

Strawman,  a  country  clergyman. 

Mrs.  Strawman,  his  wife. 

Students,  Guests,  Married  and  Plighted  Pairs. 

The  Strawmans'  Eight  Little  Girls. 

Four  Aunts,  a  Porter,  Domestic  Servants. 


Scene. — Mrs.  Halm's  Villa  on  the  Drammensvejen  at  Chris- 
tiania. 


LOVE'S  COMEDY 

PLAY  IN  THREE  ACTS 


ACT   FIRST 


The  Scene  represents  a  pretty  garden  irregularly  but 
taste/idly  laid  out.;  in  the  background  are  seen  the 
fjord  and  the  islands.  To  tlie  left  is  the  house,  with 
a  verandah  and  an  open  dormer  window  above;  to 
the  rigid  in  tJie  foreground  an  open  summer-house 
with  a  table  and  benches.  TJie  landscape  lies  in 
brigfd  afternoon  sunshine.  It  is  early  summer; 
the  fruit-trees  are  in  flower. 

When  the  Curtain  rises,  Mrs.  Halm,  Anna,  and  Miss 
Jay  are  sitting  on  tlie  verandah,  the  first  two  engaged 
in  embroidery,  tlie  last  with  a  book.  In  the  summer- 
house  are  seen  Falk,  Lind,  Guldstad,  and  Stiver: 
a  punch-bowl  and  glasses  .are  on  the  table.  Svan- 
hild  sits  alone  in  tJie  background  by  tlie  water. 

Falk. 

[Rises,  lifts  his  glass,  and  sings.] 

Sun-glad  day  in  garden  shady 

Was  but  made  for  thy  delight: 
What  though  promises  of  May-day 

Be  annulled  by  Autumn's  blight? 
307 


308  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  i 

Apple-blossom  white  and  splendid 
Drapes  thee  in  its  glowing  tent, — 

Let  it,  then,  when  day  is  ended, 
Strew  the  closes  storm-besprent. 

Chorus  of  Gentlemen. 
Let  it,  then,  when  day  is  ended,  etc. 

Falk. 

Wherefore  seek  the  harvest's  guerdon 

While  the  tree  is  yet  in  bloom  ? 
Wherefore  drudge  beneath  the  burden 

Of  an  unaccomplished  doom  ? 
Wherefore  let  the  scarecrow  clatter 

Day  and  night  upon  the  tree  ? 
Brothers  mine,  the  sparrow's  chatter 

Has  a  cheerier  melody. 

Chorus. 
Brothers  mine,  the  sparrow's  chatter,  etc. 

Falk. 

Happy  songster!     Wherefore  scare  him 

From  our  blossom-laden  bower? 
Rather  for  his  music  spare  him 

All  our  future,  flower  by  flower; 
Trust  me,  'twill  be  cheaply  buying 

Present  song  with  future  fruit; 
List  the  proverb,  "Time  is  flying; — " 

Soon  our  garden  music's  mute. 

Chorus. 
List  the  proverb,  etc. 


act  i]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  809 

Falk. 

I  will  live  in  song  and  gladness,— 

Then,  when  every  bloom  is  shed, 
Sweep  together,  scarce  in  sadness, 

All  that  glory,  wan  and  dead: 
Fling  the  gates  wide!    Bruise  and  batter, 

Tear  and  trample,  hoof  and  tusk;  ' 
I  have  plucked  the  flower,  what  matter 

Who  devours  the  withered  husk! 

Chorus. 

I  have  plucked  the  flower,  etc. 

[They  clink  and  empty  tlieir  glasses. 

Falk. 

[To  the  ladies.] 

There— that's  the  song  you  asked  me  for;   but  pray 
Be  lenient  to  it— I  can't  think  to-day. 

GULDSTAD. 

Oh,  never  mind  the  sense— the  sound's  the  thing. 

Miss  Jay. 

[Looking  round.] 

But  Svanhild,  who  was  eagerest  to  hear — ? 
When  Falk  began,  she  suddenly  took  wing 
And  vanished — 

Anna. 
[Pointing  towards  the  back.] 

No,  for  there  she  sits — I  see  her. 


310  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  i 

Mrs.  Halm. 

[Sighing.] 

That  child!    Heaven  knows,  she's  past  my  compre- 
hending! 

Miss  Jay. 

But,  .Mr.  Falk,  I  thought  the  lyric's  ending 
Was  not  so  rich  in — well,  in  poetry, 
As  others  of  the  stanzas  seemed  to  be. 

Stiver. 

Why,  yes,  and  I  am  sure  it  could  not  tax 
Your  powers  to  get  a  little  more  inserted — 

Falk. 

[Clinking  glasses  with  him.] 

You  cram  it  in,  like  putty  into  cracks. 
Till  lean  is  into  streaky  fat  converted. 

Stiver. 

[Unruffled.] 

Yes,  nothing  easier — I,  too,  in  my  day 
Could  do  the  trick. 

Guldstad. 

Dear  me !    Were  you  a  poet  ? 

Miss  Jay. 
My  Stiver!     Yes! 

Stiver. 

Oh,  in  a  humble  way. 


act  i]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  311 

Miss  Jay. 
[To  the  ladies.] 
His  nature  is  romantic. 

Mrs.  Halm. 

Yes,  we  know  it. 

Stiver. 
Not  now;    it's  ages  since  I  turned  a  rhyme. 

Falk. 

Yes,  varnish  and  romance  go  off  with  time. 
But  in  the  old  days —  ? 

Stiver. 

Well,  you  see,  'twas  when 
I  was  in  love. 

Falk. 

Is  that  time  over,  then  ? 
Have  you  slept  off  the  sweet  intoxication  ? 

Stiver. 
v 

I'm  now  engaged— I  hold  official  station — 

That's  better  than    i  n  1  o  v  e  ,    I  apprehend ! 

Falk. 

Quite  so!   You're  in  the  right,  my  good  old  friend. 
The  worst  is  past — vous  voila,  bien  avane/— 
Promoted  from  mere  lover  to  fiance. 


312  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  i 

Stiver. 

[With  a  smile  of  complacent  recollection.] 

It's  strange  to  think  of  it — upon  my  word, 
I  half  suspect  my  memory  of  lying — 

[Turns  to  Falk. 
But  seven  years  ago — it  sounds  absurd! — 
I  wasted  office  hours  in  versifying. 

Falk. 
What!      Office  hours—! 

Stiver. 
Yes,  such  were  my  transgressions. 

Guldstad. 
[Ringing  on  his  glass.] 
Silence  for  our  solicitor's  confessions! 

Stiver. 

But  chiefly  after  five,  when  I  was  free, 
I'd  rattle  off  whole  reams  of  poetry — 
Ten — fifteen  folios  ere  I  went  to  bed — 

Falk. 

I  see — you  gave  your  Pegasus  his  head, 
And  off  he  tore — 

Stiver. 

On  stamped  or  unstamped  paper — 
'Twas  all  the  same  to  him — he'd  prance  and  caper — 


acti]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  313 

Falk. 

The  spring  of  poetry  flowed  no  less  flush  ? 
But  how,  pray,  did  you  teach  it  first  to  gush  ? 

Stiver. 

By  aid  of  love's  divining-rod,  ray  friend! 
Miss  Jay  it  was  that  taught  me  where«to  bore, 
My  fiancee — she  became  so  in  the  end — 
For  then  she  was — 

Falk. 
Your  love  and  nothing  more. 

Stiver. 
{Continuing.'] 
'Twas  a  strange  time;   I  could  not  read  a  bit; 
I  tuned  my  pen  instead  of  pointing  it; 
And  when  along  the  foolscap  sheet  it  raced, 
It  twangled  music  to  the  words  I  traced; — 
At  last  by  letter  I  declared  my  flame 
To  her — to  her — 

Falk. 
Whose  fiance  you  became. 

Stiver. 

In  course  of  post  her  answer  came  to  hand 
The  motion  granted — judgment  in  my  favour! 

Falk. 

And  you  felt  bigger,  as  you  wrote,  and  braver, 
To  find  you'd  brought  your  venture  safe  to  land! 


314  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  i 

Stiver. 
Of  course 

Falk. 

And  then  you  bade  the  Muse  farewell  ? 

Stiver. 

I've  felt  no  lyric  impulse,  truth  to  tell, 

From  that  day  forth.    My  vein  appeared  to  peter 

Entirely  out;   and  now,  if  I  essay 

To  turn  a  verse  or  two  for  New  Year's  Day, 

I  make  the  veriest  hash  of  rhyme  and  metre, 

And — I've  no  notion  what  the  cause  can  be — 

Jt  turns  to  law  and  not  to  poetry. 

Guldstad. 
[Clinks  glasses  with  him.] 

And,  trust  me,  you're  no  whit  the  worse  for  that! 

[To  Falk. 
You  think  the  stream  of  life  is  flowing  solely 
To  bear  you  to  the  goal  you're  aiming  at — 
But  you  may  find  yourself  mistaken  wholly. 
As  for  your  song,  perhaps  it's  most  poetic, 
Perhaps  it's  not — on  that  point  we  won't  quarrel — 
But  here  I  lodge  a  protest  energetic, 
Say  what  you  will,  against  its  wretched  moral. 
A  masterly  economy  and  new 
To  let  the  birds  play  havoc  at  their  pleasure 
Among  your  fruit-trees,  fruitless  now  for  you, 
And  suffer  flocks  and  herds  to  trample  through 
Your  garden,  and  lay  waste  its  springtide  treasure! 
A  pretty  prospect,  truly,  for  next  year! 


act  i]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  315 

Falk. 

Oh,  next,  next,  next!     The  thought  I  loathe  and 

fear 
That  these  four  letters  timidly  express — 
It  beggars  millionaires  in  happiness! 
If  I  could  be  the  autocrat  of  speech 
But  for  one  hour,  that  hateful  word  I'd  banish; 
I'd  send  it  packing  out  of  mortal  reach, 
As  B  and  G  from  Knudsen's  Grammar  vanish. 

Stiver. 
Why  should  the  word  of  hope  enrage  you  thus  ? 

Falk. 

Because  it  darkens  God's  fair  earth  for  us. 

"Next  year,"  "next  love,"  "next  life,"— my  soul  is 

vext 
To  see  this  world  in  thraldom  to  "the  next." 
Tis  this  dull  forethought,  bent  on  future  prizes, 
That  millionaires  in  gladness  pauperises. 
Far  as  the  eye  can  reach,  it  blurs  the  age; 
All  rapture  of  the  moment  it  destroys; 
No  one  dares  taste  in  peace  life's  simplest  joys 
Until  he's  struggled  on  another  stage — 
And  there  arriving,  can  he  there  repose? 
No— to  a  new  "next"  off  he  flies  again; 
On,  on,  unresting,  to  the  grave  he  goes; 
And  God  knows  if  there's  any  resting  then. 

Miss  Jay. 
Fie,  Mr.  Falk,  such  sentiments  are  shocking. 


316  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  i 

Anna. 

[Pensively .] 

Oh,  I  can  understand  the  feeling  quite; 
I  am  sure  at  bottom  Mr.  Falk  is  right. 

Miss  Jay. 

[Perturbed.] 

My  Stiver  mustn't  listen  to  his  mocking. 
He's  rather  too  eccentric  even  now. — 
My  dear,  I  want  you* 

Stiver. 
[Occupied  in  cleaning  his  pipe.] 

Presently,  my  dear. 

Guldstad. 

[To  Falk.] 

One  thing  at  least  to  me  is  very  clear; — 
And  that  is  that  you  cannot  but  allow 
Some  forethought  indispensable.     For  see, 
Suppose  that  you  to-day  should  write  a  sonnet, 
And,  scorning  forethought,  you  should  lavish  on  its 
Your  last  reserve,  your  all,  of  poetry, 
So  that,  to-morrow,  when  you  set  about 
Your  next  song,  you  should  find  yourself  cleaned  out, 
Heavens!    how  your  friends  the  critics  then  would 
crow! 

Falk. 

D'you  think  they'd  notice  I  was  bankrupt?    No! 
Once  beggared  of  ideas,  I  and  they 


act  i]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  317. 

Would  saunter  arm  in  arm  the  selfsame  way 

[Breaking  off. 
But  Lind !  why,  what's  the  matter  with  you,  pray  ? 
You  sit  there  dumb  and  dreaming— I  suspect  you're 
Deep  in  the  mysteries  of  architecture. 

Lind. 
[Collecting  himself.] 
I  ?     What  should  make  you  think  so  ? 

Falk. 

I  observe. 
Your  eyes  are  glued  to  the  verandah  yonder— 
You're  studying,  mayhap,  its  arches'  curve, 
Or  can  it  be  its  pillars'  strength  you  ponder, 
The  door  perhaps,  with  hammered  iron  hinges? 
The  window  blinds,  and  their  artistic  fringes  ? 
From  something  there  your  glances  never  wander. 

Lind. 

No,  you  are  wrong— I'm  just  absorbed  in  being- 
Drunk  with  the  hour— naught  craving,  naught  fore- 
seeing. 
I  feel  as  though  I  stood,  my  life  complete, 
With  all  earth's  riches  scattered  at  my  feet. 
Thanks  for  your  song  of  happiness  and  spring— 
From  out  my  inmost  heart  it  seemed  to  spring. 

[Lifts  his  glass  and  exchanges  a  glance,  unob- 
served, with  Anna. 
Here's  to  the  blossom  in  its  fragrant  pride! 
What  reck  we  of  the  fruit  of  autumn-tide  ? 

[Empties  his  glass. 


318  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  i 

Falk. 

[Looks  at  him  with  surprise  and  emotion,  but  assumes  a 
light  tone.] 
Behold,  fair  ladies!  though  you  scorn  me  quite, 
Here  I  have  made  an  easy  proselyte. 
His  hymn-book  yesterday  was  all  he  cared  for — 
To-day  e'en  dithyrambics  he's  prepared  for! 
We  poets  must  be  born,  cries  every  judge; 
But  prose-folks,  now  and  then,  like  Strasburg  geese, 
Gorge  themselves  so  inhumanly  obese 
On  rhyming  balderdash  and  rhythmic  fudge, 
That,  when  cleaned  out,  their  very  souls  are  thick 
With  lyric  lard  and  greasy  rhetoric.  [To  Lind. 

Your  praise,  however,  I  shall  not  forget; 
We'll  sweep  the  lyre  henceforward  in  duet. 

Miss  Jay. 

You,  Mr.  Falk,  are  hard  at  work,  no  doubt, 

Here  in  these  rural  solitudes  delightful, 

Where  at  your  own  sweet  will  you  roam  about — 

Mrs.  Halm. 

[Smiling.] 
Oh,  no,  his  laziness  is  something  frightful. 

Miss  Jay. 

What!  here  at  Mrs.  Halm's!  that's  most  surpris- 
ing— 
Surely  it's  just  the  place  for  poetising — 

[Pointing  to  the  right. 
That  summer-house,  for  instance,  in  the  wood 
Sequestered,  name  me  any  place  that  could 
Be  more  conducive  to  poetic  mood — 


act  i]  LOVE'S  COMEDY  319 

Falk. 

Let  blindness  veil  the  sunlight  from  mine  eyes 
I'll  chant  the  splendour  of  the  sunlit  skies! 
Just  for  a  season  let  me  beg  or  borrow 
A  great,  a  crushing,  a  stupendous  sorrow, 
And  soon  you'll  hear  my  hymns  of  gladness  rise! 
But  best,  Miss  Jay,  to  nerve  my  wings  for  flight, 
Find  me  a  maid  to  be  my  life,  my  light — 
For  that  incitement  long  to  Heaven  I've  pleaded; 
But  hitherto,  worse  luck,  it  hasn't  heeded. 

Miss  Jay. 
What  levity! 

Mrs.  Halm. 
Yes,  most  irreverent! 

Falk. 

Pray  don't  imagine  it  was  my  intent 

To  live  with  her  on  bread  and  cheese  and  kisses. 

No!  just  upon  the  threshold  of  our  blisses, 

Kind  Heaven  must  snatch  away  the  gift  it  lent. 

I  need  a  little  spiritual  gymnastic; 

The  dose  in  that  form  surely  would  be  drastic. 

Svanhild 

[Has  during  the  talk  approached;  she  stands  close  to 
the  table,  and  says  in  a  determined  but  whimsical 
tone: 

I'll  pray  that  such  may  be  your  destiny. 
But,  when  it  finds  you — bear  it  like  a  man. 


320  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  i 

Falk. 

[Turning  round  in  surprise.] 

Miss  Svanhild! — well,  I'll  do  the  best  I  can. 
But  think  you  I  may  trust  implicitly 
To  finding  your  petitions  efficacious  ? 
Heaven,  as  you  know,  to  faith  alone  is  gracious — 
And  though  you've  doubtless  will  enough  for  two 
To  make  me  bid  my  peace  of  mind  adieu, 
Have  you  the  faith  to  carry  matters  through  ? 
That  is  the  question. 

Svanhild. 
[Half  in  jest.] 

Wait  till  sorrow  comes, 
And  all  your  being's  springtide  chills  and  numbs, 
Wait  till  it  gnaws  and  rends  you,  soon  and  late, 
Then  tell  me  if  my  faith  is  adequate. 

[She  goes  across  to  Hie  ladies. 

Mrs.  Halm. 

[Aside  to  her.] 
Can  you  two  never  be  at  peace?   you've  made 
Poor  Mr.  Falk  quite  angry  I'm  afraid. 

[Continues  reprovingly  in  a  low  voice.  Miss 
Jay  joins  in  the  conversation.  Svanhild 
remains  cold  and  silent. 

Falk. 

[After  a  pause  of  reflection  goes  over  to  the  summer-house, 
then  to  himself.] 

With  fullest  confidence  her  glances  lightened. 
Shall  I  believe,  as  she  does  so  securely. 
That  Heaven  intends — 


act  i]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  321 

GULDSTAD. 

No,  hang  it!  don't  be  frightened! 
The  powers  above  would  be  demented  surely 
To  give  effect  to  orders  such  as  these. 
No,  my  good  sir — the  cure  for  your  disease 
Is  exercise  for  muscle,  nerve  and  sinew. 
Don't  lie  there  wasting  all  the  grit  that's  in  you 
In  idle  dreams;    cut  wood,  if  that  were  all; 
And  then  I'll  say  the  devil's  in't  indeed 
If  one  brief  fortnight  does  not  find  you  freed 
From  all  your  whimsies  high-fantastical 

Falk. 

Fetter'd  by  choice,  like  Burnell's  ass,  I  ponder — 
The  flesh  on  this  side,  and  the  spirit  yonder. 
Which  were  it  wiser  I  should  go  for  first  ? 

Guldstad. 
[Filling  tlie  glasses.] 
First  have  some  punch — that  quenches  ire  and  thirst. 

Mrs.  Halm. 

[Looking  at  her  watch.] 

Ha!    Eight  o'clock!   my  watch  is  either  fast,  or 
It's  just  the  time  we  may  expect  the  Pastor. 

[Rises,  and  puts  things  in  order  on  the  verandah. 

Falk. 
What !  have  we  parsons  coming  ? 

Miss  Jay. 

Don't  you  know  ? 


322  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  i 

Mrs.  Halm. 
I  told  you,  just  a  little  while  ago — 

Anna. 
No,  mother — Mr.  Falk  had  not  yet  come. 

Mrs.  Halm. 

Why  no,  that's  true;    but  pray  don't  look  so  glum. 
Trust  me,  you'll  be  enchanted  with  his  visit. 

Falk. 
A  clerical  enchanter;    pray  who  is  it? 

Mrs.  Halm. 
Why,  Pastor  Strawman,  not  unknown  to  fame. 

Falk. 

Indeed!    Oh,  yes,  I  think  I've  heard  his  name, 

And  read  that  in  the  legislative  game 

He  comes  to  take  a  hand,  with  voice  and  vote. 

Stiver. 
He  speaks  superbly. 

Guldstad. 

When  he's  cleared  his  throat. 

Miss  Jay. 
He's  coming  with  his  wife — 


act  i]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  323 

Mrs.  Halm. 

And  all  their  blessings — 

Falk. 

To  give  them  three  or  four  days'  treat,  poor  dears — 
Soon  he'll  be  buried  over  head  and  ears 
In  Swedish  muddles  and  official  messings — 
I  see! 

Mrs.  Halm. 

[To  Falk.] 
Now  there's  a  man  for  you,  in  truth ! 

Guldstad. 
They  say  he  was  a  rogue,  though,  in  his  youth. 

Miss  Jay. 

[Offended.] 

There,  Mr.  Guldstad,  I  must  break  a  lance! 
I've  heard  as  long  as  I  can  recollect, 
Most  worthy  people  speak  with  great  respect 
Of  Pastor  Strawman  and  his  life's  romance. 

Guldstad. 
« 

[Laughing.] 

Romance  ? 

Miss  Jay. 

Romance!     I  call  a  match  romantic 
At  which  mere  worldly  wisdom  looks  askance. 

Falk 
You  make  my  curiosity  gigantic. 


324  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  i 

Miss  Jay. 

[Continuing.] 

But  certain  people  always  grow  splenetic — 
Why,  goodness  knows — at  everything  pathetic, 
And  scoff  it  down.     We  all  know  how,  of  late, 
An  unfledged,  upstart  undergraduate 
Presumed  with  brazen  insolence,  to  declare 
That  "William  Russell"1  was  a  poor  affair! 

Falk. 

But  what  has  this  to  do  with  Strawman,  pray? 
Is  he  a  poem,  or  a  Christian  play  ? 

Miss  Jay. 

[With  tears  of  emotion.] 

No,  Falk, — a  man,  with  heart  as  large  as  day. 
But  when  a — so  to  speak — mere  lifeless  thing 
Can  put  such  venom  into  envy's  sting, 
And  stir  up  evil  passions  fierce  and  fell 
Of  such  a  depth — 

Falk. 
[Sympathetically .] 

And  such  a  length  as  well — 

Miss  Jay. 

Why  then,  a  man  of  your  commanding  brain 
Can't  fail  to  see — 

Falk. 

Oh,  yes,  that's  very  plain. 
But  hitherto  I  haven't  quite  made  out 
The  nature,  style,  and  plot  of  this  romance. 

•See  Notes,  page  483. 


act  i]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  325 

It's  something  quite  delightful  I've  no  doubt — 
But  just  a  little  inkling  in  advance — 

Stiver. 

I  will  abstract,  in  rapid  resume, 
The  leading  points. 

Miss  Jay. 

No,  I  am  more  au  fait, 
I  know  the  ins  and  outs — 

Mrs.  Halm. 

I  know  them  too! 

Miss  Jay. 

Oh  Mrs.  Halm!  now  let  me  tell  it,  do! 
Well,  Mr.  Falk,  you  see — he  passed  at  college 
For  quite  a  miracle  of  wit  and  knowledge, 
Had  admirable  taste  in  books  and  dress — 

Mrs.  Halm. 

And  acted — privately — with  great  success. 

Miss  Jay. 
Yes,  wait  a  bit — he  painted,  played  and  wrote — 

Mrs.  Halm. 
And  don't  forget  his  gift  of  anecdote 

Miss  Jay 

Do  give  me  time;    1  know  the  whole  affair: 
He  made  some  verses,  set  them  to  an  air, 


326  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  i 

Also  his  own, — and  found  a  publisher. 

O  Heavens!  with  what  romantic  melancholy 

He  played  and  sang  his  "Madrigals  to  Molly"! 

Mrs.  Halm. 
He  was  a  genius,  that's  the  simple  fact. 

Guldstad. 
[To  himself.] 
Hm!    Some  were  of  opinion  he  was  cracked. 

Falk. 

A  gray  old  stager,1  whose  sagacious  head 

Was  never  upon  mouldy  parchments  fed, 

Says  "Love  makes  Petrarchs,  just  as  many  lambs 

And  little  occupation,  Abrahams." 

But  who  was  Molly  ? 

Miss  Jay. 

Molly  ?     His  elect, 
His  lady-love,  whom  shortly  we  expect. 
Of  a  great  firm  her  father  was  a  member — 


A  timber  house. 


Guldstad. 

Miss  Jay. 

[Curtly.] 
I'm  really  not  aware. 

Guldstad. 

Did  a  large  trade  in  scantlings,  I  remember. 
1  See  Notes,  page  483. 


act  i]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  327 

Miss  Jay. 
That  is  the  trivial  side  of  the  affair. 

Falk. 

A  firm  ? 

Miss  Jay. 

[Continuing.] 

Of  vast  resources,  I'm  informed. 
You  can  imagine  how  the  suitors  swarm 'd; 
Gentlemen  of  the  highest  reputation. — 

Mrs.  Halm. 
Even  a  baronet  made  application. 

Miss  Jay. 

But  Molly  was  not  to  be  made  their  catch. 
She  had  met  Strawman  upon  private  stages; 
To  see  him  was  to  love  him — 

Falk. 

And  despatch 
The  wooing  gentry  home  without  their  wages  ? 

Mrs.  Halm. 
Was  it  not  just  a  too  romantic  match  ? 

Miss  Jay. 

And  then  there  was  a  terrible  old  father, 
Whose  sport  was  thrusting  happy  souls  apart; 
She  had  a  guardian  also,  as  I  gather, 
To  add  fresh  torment  to  her  tortured  heart. 


328  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  i 

But  each  of  them  was  loyal  to  his  vow; 

A  straw-thatched  cottage  and  a  snow-white  ewe 

They  dream'd  of,  just  enough  to  nourish  two — 

Mrs.  Halm. 
Or  at  the  very  uttermost  a  cow, — 

Miss  Jay. 

In  short,  I've  heard  it  from  the  lips  of  both, — 
A  beck,  a  byre,  two  bosoms,  and  one  troth. 

Falk. 
Ah  yes !     And  then —  ? 

Miss  Jay. 

She  broke  with  kin  and  class. 


She  broke —  ? 


Falk. 

Mrs.  Halm. 
Broke  with  them. 

Falk. 

There's  a  plucky  lass! 

Miss  Jay. 
And  fled  to  Strawman's  garret — 

Falk. 

How?     Without - 
Ahem — the  priestly  consecration  ? 


act  i]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  329 

Miss  Jay. 

Shame! 
Mrs.  Halm. 

Fy,  fy!  my  late  beloved  husband's  name 
Was  on  the  list  of  sponsors — ! 

Stiver. 
[To  Miss  Jay.] 

You're  to  blame 
For  leaving  that  important  item  out. 
In  a  report  'tis  of  the  utmost  weight 
That  the  chronology  be  accurate. 
But  what  I  never  yet  could  comprehend 
Is  how  on  earth  they  managed — 

Falk. 

The  one  room 
Not  housing  sheep  and  cattle,  I  presume. 

Miss  Jay. 
[To  Stiver.] 

O,  but  you  must  consider  this,  my  friend; 
There  is  no  Want  where  Love's  the  guiding  star; 
All's  right  without  if  tender  Troth's  within. 

[To  Falk. 
He  loved  her  to  the  notes  of  the  guitar, 
And  she  gave  lessons  on  the  violin — 

Mrs!  Halm. 

Then  all,  of  course,  on  credit  they  bespok 

GtJLDSTAD. 

Till,  in  a  year,  the  timber  merchant  broke 


330  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  i 

Mrs.  Halm. 
Then  Strawman  had  a  call  to  north. 

Miss  Jay. 

And  there 
Vowed,  in  a  letter  that  I  saw  (as  few  did), 
He  lived  but  for  his  duty,  and  for  her. 

Falk. 
[As  if  completing  her  statement.] 
And  with  those  words  his  Life's  Romance  concluded. 

Mrs.  Halm. 
[Rising.] 

How  if  we  should  go  out  upon  the  lawn, 
And  see  if  there's  no  prospect  of  them  yet  ? 

Miss  Jay. 

[Drawing  on  her  mantle.] 

It's  cool  already. 

Mrs.  Halm. 

Svanhild,  will  you  get 
My  woollen  shawl? — Come  ladies,  pray! 

Lind. 

[To  Anna,  unobserved  by  the  others.] 

Go  on! 
[Svanhild  goes  into  the  house;  the  others,  except 
Falk,  go  towards  the  back  and  out  to  the  left 
Lind,  who  has  followed,  stops  and  returns. 

Lind. 
My  friend ! 


act  i]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  331 

Falk. 
Ah,  ditto. 

Lind. 

Falk,  your  hand!    The  tide 
Of  joy's  so  vehement,  it  will  perforce 
Break  out — 

Falk. 

Hullo  there;   you  must  first  be  tried; 
Sentence  and  hanging  follow  in  due  course. 
Now,  what  on  earth's  the  matter?    To  conceal 
From  me,  your  friend,  this  treasure  of  your  finding; 
For  you'll  confess  the  inference  is  binding: 
You've  come  into  a  prize  off  Fortune's  wheel! 

Lind. 
I've  snared  and  taken  Fortune's  blessed  bird! 

Falk. 

How  ?    Living, — and  undamaged  by  the  steel  ? 

Lind. 

Patience;    I'll  tell  the  matter  in  one  word. 
I  am  engaged!     Conceive — ! 

Falk. 

[Quickly.] 

Engaged ! 

Lind. 

It's  true. 
To-day, — with  unimagined  courage  swelling, 
I  said, — ahem,  it  will  not  bear  re-telling; — 


332  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  i 

But  only  think, — the  sweet  young  maiden  grew 
Quite  rosy-red, — but  not  at  all  enraged! 
You  see,  Falk,  what  I  ventured  for  a  bride! 
She  listened, — and  I  rather  think  she  cried; 
That,  sure,  means  "Yes"? 

Falk. 

If  precedents  decide; 
Go  on. 

Lind. 

And  so  we  really  are — engaged  ? 

Falk. 

I  should  conclude  so;    but  the  only  way 
To  be  quite  certain,  is  to  ask  Miss  Jay. 

Lind. 

O  no,  I  feel  so  confident,  so  clear! 
So  perfectly  assured,  and  void  of  fear. 

[Radiantly,  in  a  mysterious  tone. 
Hark!     I  had  leave  her  fingers  to  caress 
When  from  the  coffee-board  she  drew  the  cover. 

Falk. 
[Lifting  and  emptying  his  glass.] 
Well,  flowers  of  spring  your  wedding  garland  dress! 

Lind. 

[Doing  the  same.] 

And  here  I  swear  by  heaven  that  I  will  love  her 

Until  I  die,  with  love  as  infinite 

As  now  glows  in  me, — for  she  is  so  sweet! 


act  i]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  333 

Falk. 

Engaged!    Aha,  so  that  was  why  you  flung 
The  Holy  Law  and  Prophets  on  the  shelf! 

Lind. 

[Laughing.] 
And  you  believed  it  was  the  song  you  sung — ! 

Falk. 
A  poet  believes  all  things  of  himself. 

Lind. 

[Seriously.] 

Don't  think,  however,  Falk,  that  I  dismiss 
The  theologian  from  my  hour  of  bliss. 
Only,  I  find  the  Book  will  not  suffice 
As  Jacob's  ladder  unto  Paradise. 
I  must  into  God's  world,  and  seek  Him  there. 
A  boundless  kindness  in  my  heart  upsprings, 
I  love  the  straw,  I  love  the  creeping  things; 
They  also  in  my  joy  shall  have  a  share. 

Falk. 
Yes,  only  tell  me  this,  though — 

Lind. 

I  have  told  it, — 
My  precious  secret,  and  our  three  hearts  hold  it! 

Falk. 

But  have  you  thought  about  the  future  ? 


334  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  i 

LlND. 

Thought  ? 
I  ? — thought  about  the  future  ?     No,  from  this 
Time  forth  I  live  but  in  the  hour  that  is. 
In  home  shall  all  my  happiness  be  sought; 
We  hold  Fate's  reins,  we  drive  her  hither,  thither, 
And  neither  friend  nor  mother  shall  have  right 
To  say  unto  my  budding  blossom:    Wither! 
For  I  am  earnest  and  her  eyes  are  bright, 
And  so  it  must  unfold  into  the  light! 

Falk. 
Yes,  Fortune  likes  you,  you  will  serve  her  turn! 

Lind. 

My  spirits  like  wild  music  glow  and  burn; 
I  feel  myself  a  Titan:    though  a  foss 
Opened  before  me — I  would  leap  across! 

Falk. 

Your  love,  you  mean  to  say,  in  simple  prose, 
Has  made  a  reindeer  of  you. 

Lind. 

Well,  suppose; 
But  in  my  wildest  flight,  1  know  the  nest 
In  which  my  heart's  dove  longs  to  be  at  rest! 

»  .  Falk. 

Well  then,  to-morrow  it  may  fly  con  brio; 
You're  off  into  the  hills  with  the  quartette. 
I'll  guarantee  you  against  cold  and  wet — 


act  i]  LOVE'S   COMEDY 


335 


LlND. 

Peoh,  the  quartette  may  go  and  climb  in  trio, 
The  lowly  dale  has  mountain  air  for  me; 
Here  I've  the  immeasurable  fjord,  the  flowers, 
Here  I  have  warbling  birds  and  choral  bowers, 
And  lady  Fortune's  self,— for  here  is   she! 

Falk. 
Ah,  lady  Fortune  by  our  Northern  water 
Is  rara  avis,— hold  her  if  you've  caught  her! 

[With  a  glance  towards  the  house. 
Hist— Svanhild — 

Lind. 

Well;   I  go,— disclose  to  none 
The  secret  that  we  share  alone  with  one. 
'Twas  good  of  you  to  listen:   now  enfold  it 
Deep  in  your  heart— warm,  glowing,  as  I  told  it. 
[He  goes  out  in  the  background  to  the  others. 
Falk  looks  after  him  a  moment,  and  paces 
up  and  down  in  the  garden,  visibly  striving 
to  master  his  agitation.    Presently  Svanhild 
comes  out  with  a  shawl  on  fier  arm,  and  is 
going  toivards  the   back.     Falk  approaches 
and  gazes  at  her  fixedly.    Svanhild  stops. 

Svanhild. 
[After  a  short  pause.] 
You  gaze  so  at  me  ? 

Falk. 
[Half  to  himself] 

Yes,  'tis    there— the  same; 
Ine  shadow  in  her  eyes'  deep  mirror  sleeping, 


536  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  i 

The  roguish  elf  about  her  lips  a-peeping, 
It  i  s  there. 

Svanhild. 
What?     You  frighten  me. 

Falk. 

Your  name 
Is  Svanhild  ? 

Svanhild. 
Yes,  you  know  it  very  well. 

Falk. 

But  do  y  o  u  know  the  name  is  laughable  ? 
I  beg  you  to  discard  it  from  to-night! 

Svanhild. 
That  would  be  far  beyond  a  daughter's  right — 

Falk. 

[Laughing.] 

Hm.     "Svanhild!     Svanhild!" 

[With  sudden  gravity. 
With  your  earliest  breath 
How  came  you  by  this  prophecy  of  death  ? 

Svanhild. 
Is  it  so  grim  ? 

Falk. 

No,  lovely  as  a  song, 
But  for  our  age  too  great  and  stern  and  strong, 
How  can  a  modern  demoiselle  fill  out 


act  i]  LOVE'S   COMEDY 

The  ideal  that  heroic  name  expresses  ? 

No,  no,  discard  it  with  your  outworn  dresses. 

SVANHILD. 

You  mean  the  mythical  princess,  no  doubt— 

Falk. 
Who,  guiltless,  died  beneath  the  horse's  feet. 

SVANHILD. 

But  now  such  acts  are  clearly  obsolete. 

No,  no,  I'll  mount  his  saddle!    There's  my  place' 

How  often  have  I  dreamt,  in  pensive  ease, 

He  bore  me,  buoyant,  through  the  world  apace, 

His  mane  a  flag  of  freedom  in  the  breeze! 

Falk. 
Yes,  the  old  tale.    In  "pensive  ease"  no  mortal 
Is  stopped  by  thwarting  bar  or  cullis'd  portal- 
Fearless  we  cleave  the  ether  without  bound- 
In  practice,  tho',  we  shrewdly  hug  the  ground; 
*or  all  love  life  and,  having  choice,  will  choose  it; 
And  no  man  dares  to  leap  where  he  may  lose  it. 

SVANHILD. 

Yes!   show  me  but  the  end,  I'll  spurn  the  shore; 
But  let  the  end  be  worth  the  leaping  for! 
A  Ballarat  beyond  the  desert  sands- 
Else  each  will  stay  exactly  where  he  stands. 

Falk. 
[Sarcastically.] 
I  grasp  the  case;— the  due  conditions  fail. 


337 


338  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  i 

SVANHILD. 

[Eagerly.] 

Exactly:   what's  the  use  of  spreading  sail 
When  there  is  not  a  breath  of  wind  astir? 

Falk. 

[Ironically.] 

Yes,  what's  the  use  of  plying  whip  and  spur 
When  there  is  not  a  penny  of  reward 
For  him  who  tears  him  from  the  festal  board, 
And  mounts,  and  dashes  headlong  to  perdition  ? 
Such  doing  for  the  deed's  sake  asks  a  knight, 
And  knighthood's  now  an  idle  superstition. 
That  was  your  meaning,  possibly  ? 

Svanhild. 

Quite  right. 
Look  at  that  fruit-tree  in  the  orchard  close, — 
No  blossom  on  its  barren  branches  blows. 
You  should  have  seen  last  year  with  what  brave  airs 
It  staggered  underneath  its  world  of  pears. 

Falk. 
[Uncertain.] 
No  doubt,  but  what's  the  moral  you  impute  ? 

Svanhild. 

[With  finesse.] 

O,  among  other  things,  the  bold  unreason 
Of  modern  Zacharies  who  seek  for  fruit. 
If  the  tree  blossom'd  to  excess  last  season, 
You  must  not  crave  the  blossoms  back  in  this. 


act  i]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  339 

Falk. 

I  knew  you'd  find  your  footing  in  the  ways 
Of  old  Romance. 

Svanhied. 

Yes,  modern  virtue  is 
Of  quite  another  stamp.    Who  now  arrays 
Himself  to  battle  for  the  truth  ?    Who'll  stake 
His  life  and  person  fearless  for  truth's  sake  ? 
Where  is  the  hero  ? 

Falk. 
[Looking  keenly  at  her.] 

Where  is  the  Valkyria? 

SVANHILD. 

[Shaking  her  head.] 
Valkyrias  find  no  market  in  this  land ! 
When  the  faith  lately  was  assailed  in  Syria, 
Did  you  go  out  with  the  crusader-band  ? 
No,  but  on  paper  you  were  warm  and  willing,— 
And  sent  the  "Clerical  Gazette"  a  shilling. 

[Pause.    Falk  is  about  to  retort,  but  checks  him- 
self, and  goes  into  the  garden. 

Svanhild. 

[After  watching  him  a  moment,  approaches  him  and  asks 
gently:] 
Falk,  are  you  angry  ? 

Falk. 

No,  I  only  brood, — 


340  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  i 

SVANHILD. 

[With  thoughtful  sympathy.] 

You  seem  to  be  two  natures,  still  at  feud, — 
Unreconciled — 

Falk. 

I  know  it  well. 

SVANHILD. 

[Impetuously .] 

But  why  ? 

Falk. 

[Losing  self-control.] 

Why,  why  ?    Because  I  hate  to  go  about 
With  soul  bared  boldly  to  the  vulgar  eye, 
As  Jock  and  Jennie  hang  their  passions  out; 
To  wear  my  glowing  heart  upon  my  sleeve, 
Like  women  in  low  dresses.    You,  alone, 
Svanhild,  you  only, — you,  I  did  believe, — 
Well,  it  is  past,  that  dream,  for  ever  flown. — 
[She  goes  to  the  summer-house  and  looks  out; 
he  follows. 
You  listen —  ? 

Svanhild. 

To  another  voice,  that  sings. 
Hark!  every  evening  when  the  sun's  at  rest, 
A  little  bird  floats  hither  on  beating  wings, — 
See  there — it  darted  from  its  leafy  nest — 
And,  do  you  know,  it  is  my  faith, — as  oft 
As  God  makes  any  songless  soul,  He  sends 
A  little  bird  to  be  her  friend  of  friends, 
And  sing  for  ever  in  her  garden-croft. 


act  i]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  341 

Falk. 
[Picking  up  a  stone.] 
Then  must  the  owner  and  the  bird  be  near, 
Or  its  song's  squandered  on  a  stranger's  ear. 

SVANHILD. 

Yes,  that  is  true;    but  I've  discovered  mine. 
Of  speech  and  song  I  am  denied  the  power, 
But  when  it  warbles  in  its  leafy  bower, 
Poems  flow  in  upon  my  brain  like  wine— 
Ah,  yes,— they  fleet— they  are  not  to  be  won— 

[Falk  throws  the  stone.     Svanhild  screams. 
O  God,  you've  hit  it!    Ah,  what  have  you  done! 

[She  hurries  out  to  the' right  and  then  quickly 
returns. 
O  pity!  pity! 

Falk. 

[In  passionate  agitation.] 
No, — but  eye  for  eye, 
Svanhild,  and  tooth  for  tooth.     Now  you'll  attend 
No  further  greetings  from  your  garden-friend, 
No  guerdon  from  the  land  of  melody. 
That  is  my  vengeance:  as  you  slew,  I  slay. 

Svanhild. 
I  slew  ? 

Falk. 

You  slew.     Until  this  very  day, 
A  clear- voiced  song-bird  warbled  in  my  soul; 

bee —now  one  passing  bell  for  both  may  toll 

You've  killed  it! 


342  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  i 

SVANHILD. 

Have  I  ? 

Falk. 

Yes,  for  you  have  slain 
My  young,  high-hearted,  joyous  exultation — 

[  Co  ntemptuously . 
By  your  betrothal ! 

Svanhild. 

How!    But  pray,  explain — ! 

Falk. 

O,  it's  in  full  accord  with  expectation; 

He  gets  his  licence,"  enters  orders,  speeds  to 

A  post, — as  missionary  in  the  West — 

Svanhild. 

[In  the  same  tone.] 

A  pretty  penny,  also,  he  succeeds  to; — 
For  it  is  Lind  you  speak  of — ? 

Falk. 

You  know  best 
Of  whom  I  speak. 

Svanhild. 

[With  a  subdued  smile.] 

As  the  bride's  sister,  true, 
I  cannot  help — 

Falk. 

Great  God !    It  is  not  you —  ? 


act  i]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  343 

SVANHILD. 

Who  win  this  overplus  of  bliss ?    Ah  no! 

Falk. 

[With  almost  childish  joy.] 
It  is  not  you!    O  God  be  glorified! 
What  love,  what  mercy  does  He  not  bestow! 
I  shall  not  see  you  as  another's  bride;— 
'Twas  but  the  fire  of  pain  He  bade  me  bear— 
0  [Tries  to  seize  her  hand. 

O  hear  me,  Svanhild,  hear  me  then— 

SVANHILD. 

[Pointing  quickly  to  the  background.] 

See  there! 
[Site  goes  towards  the  house.  At  the  same 
moment  Mrs.  Halm,  Anna,  Miss  Jay, 
Guldstad,  Stiver,  and  Lind  emerge  from 
the  background.  During  the  previous  scene 
the  sun  has  set;  it  is  now  dark. 

Mrs.  Halm. 

[To  Svanhild.] 

The  Strawmans  may  be  momently  expected 
Where  have  you  been  ? 

Miss  Jay. 
[After  glancing  at  Falk.] 

Your  colour's  very  high. 

Svanhild. 
A  little  face-ache;   it  will  soon  pass  by. 


344  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  i 

Mrs.  Halm. 

And  yet  you  walk  at  nightfall  unprotected  ? 
Arrange  the  room,  and  see  that  tea  is  ready; 
Let  everything  be  nice;   I  know  the  lady. 

[Svanhild  goes  in. 

Stiver. 
[To  Falk.] 
What  is  the  colour  of  this  parson's  coat? 

Falk. 
I  guess  bread-taxers  would  not  catch  his  vote. 

Stiver. 

How  if  one  made  allusion  to  the  store 
Of  verses,  yet  unpublished,  in  my  drawer  ? 

Falk. 
It  might  do  something. 

Stiver. 

Would  to  heaven  it  might! 
Our  wedding's  imminent;    our  purses  light. 
Courtship's  a  very  serious  affair. 

Falk. 
Just  so:    "Qu'allais-tufaire  dans  cette  galere?" 

Stiver. 
Is  courtship  a  "galere?" 

Falk. 

No,  married  lives;- 
All  servitude,  captivity,  and  gyves. 


act  i]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  345 

Stiver. 
[Seeing  Miss  Jay  approach.] 
You  little  know  what  wealth  a  man  obtains 
From  woman's  eloquence  and  woman's  brains. 

Miss  Jay. 
[Aside  to  Stiver.] 
Will  Guldstad  give  us  credit,  think  you  ? 

Stiver. 
[Peevishly.] 

Am  not  quite  certain  of  it  yet:   I'll  try. 

[They   ivithdraw   in   conversation;     Lind    and 
Anna  approach. 

Lind. 

[Aside  to  Falk.] 

I  can't  endure  it  longer;    in  post-haste 
I  must  present  her — 

Falk. 

You  had  best  refrain, 
And  not  initiate  the  eye  profane 
Into  your  mysteries — 

Lind. 

That  would  be  a  jest! — 
From  you,  my  fellow-boarder,  and  my  mate, 
lo  keep  concealed  my  new-found  happy  state' 
Nay,  now,  my  head  with  Fortune's  oil  anointed- 


S46  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  i 

Falk. 

You  think  the  occasion  good  to  get  it  curled? 
Well,  my  good  friend,  you  won't  be  disappointed; 
Go  and  announce  your  union  to  the  world ! 

Lind. 

Other  reflections  also  weigh  with  me, 

And  one  of  more  especial  gravity; 

Say  that  there  lurked  among  our  motley  band 

Some  sneaking,  sly,  pretender  to  her  hand; 

Say,  his  attentions  became  undisguised, — 

We  should  be  disagreeably  compromised. 

Falk. 

Yes,  it  is  true;   it  had  escaped  my  mind, 

You  for  a  higher  office  were  designed, 

Love  as  his  young  licentiate  has  retained  you; 

Shortly  you'll  get  a  permanent  position; 

But  it  would  be  defying  all  tradition 

If  at  the  present  moment  he  ordained  you. 

Lind. 
Yes  if  the  merchant  does  not — 

Falk. 

What  of  him  ? 

Anna. 

[Troubled.] 

Oh,  it  is  Lind's  unreasonable  whim. 

Lind. 

Hush;    I've  a  deep  foreboding  that  the  man 
Will  rob  me  of  my  treasure,  if  he  can. 


act  r]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  347 

The  fellow,  as  we  know,  comes  daily  down, 
Is  rich,  unmarried,  takes  you  round  the  town; 
In  short,  my  own,  regard  it  as  we  will, 
There  are  a  thousand  things  that  bode  us  ill. 

Anna. 
[Sighing.] 

Oh,  it's  too  bad;    to-day  was  so  delicious. 

Falk. 

[Sympathetically  to  Lind.] 

Don't  wreck  your  joy,  unfoundedly  suspicious, 
Don't  hoist  your  flag  till  time  the  truth  disclose— 

Anna. 

Great  God!    Miss  Jay  is  looking;   hush,  be  still! 
[She  and  Lind  witfidrato  in  different  directions. 

Falk. 
[Looking  after  Lind.] 
So  to  the  ruin  of  his  youth  he  goes. 

Guldstad. 

Who  }ms  meantime  been  conversing  on  the  steps  with 
Mhs.  Halm  and  Miss  Jay,  approaches  Falk  and 
slaps  him  on  the  slwulder. 

Well,  brooding  on  a  poem  ? 

Falk. 

No,  a  play. 

Guldstad. 
The  deuce; — I  never  heard  it  was  your  line. 


348  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  i 

Falk. 

O  no,  the  author  is  a  friend  of  mine, 
And  your  acquaintance  also,  I  daresay. 
The  knave's  a  dashing  writer,  never  doubt. 
Only  imagine,  in  a  single  day 
He's  worked  a  perfect  little  Idyll  out. 

Guldstad. 
[Slily.] 
With  happy  ending,  doubtless! 

Falk. 

You're  aware, 
No  curtain  falls  but  on  a  plighted  pair. 
Thus  with  the  Trilogy's  First  Part  we've  reckoned; 
But  now  the  poet's  labour-throes  begin; 
The  Comedy  of  Troth-plight,  Part  the  Second, 
Thro'  five  insipid  Acts  he  has  to  spin, 
And  of  that  staple,  finally,  compose 
Part  Third, — or  Wedlock's  Tragedy,  in  prose. 

Guldstad. 
[Smiling.] 
The  poet's  vein  is  catching,  it  would  seem. 

Falk. 
Really  ?     How  so,  pray  ? 

Guldstad. 

Since  I  also  pore 
And  ponder  over  a  poetic  scheme, — 

[Mysteriously 
An  actuality — and  not  a  dream. 


ti]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  349 

Falk. 
And  pray,  who  is  the  hero  of  your  theme  ? 

Guldstad. 
I'll  tell  you  that  to-morrow — not  before. 

Falk. 
It  is  yourself! 

Guldstad. 

You  think  me  equal  to  it  ? 

Falk. 

I'm  sure  no  other  mortal  man  could  do  it. 

But  then  the  heroine  ?    No  city  maid, 

I'll  swear,  but  of  the  country,  breathing  balm  ? 

Guldstad. 

[Lifting  his  finger.'] 

Ah, — that's  the  point,  and  must  not  be  betrayed! — 

[Changing  his  tone. 
Pray  tell  me  your  opinion  of  Miss  Halm. 

Falk. 

O  you're  best  able  to  pronounce  upon  her; 
My  voice  can  neither  credit  nor  dishonour, — 

[Smiling. 
But  just  take  care  no  mischief-maker  blot 
This  fine  poetic  scheme  of  which  you  talk. 
Suppose  I  were  so  shameless  as  to  balk 
The  meditated  climax  of  the  plot? 


350  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  i 

GULDSTAD. 

[Good-naturedly .] 
Well,  I  would  cry  "Amen,"  and  change  my  plan. 

Falk. 
What! 

GULDSTAD. 

Why,  you  see,  you  are  a  letter'd  man; 
How  monstrous  were  it  if  your  skill'd  design 
Were  ruined  by  a  bungler's  hand  like  mine! 

[Retires  to  the  background. 

Falk. 

[In  passing,  to  Lind.] 

Yes,  you  were  right;  the  merchant's  really  scheming 
The  ruin  of  your  new-won  happiness. 

Lind. 
[Aside  to  Anna.] 

Now  then  you  see,  my  doubting  was  not  dreaming; 
We'll  go  this  very  moment  and  confess. 

[They  approach  Mrs.  Halm,  who  is  standing 
with  Miss  Jay  by  the  house. 

Guldstad. 
[Conversing  with  Stiver.] 
'Tis  a  fine  evening. 


A  man's  disposed- 


Stiver. 

Very  likely, — when 


act  i]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  851 

GULDSTAD. 

[Facetiously.] 

What,  all  not  running  smooth 
In  true  love's  course  ? 

Stiver. 

Not  that  exactly — 

Falk. 

[Coming  up.] 

Then 
With  your  engagement  ? 

Stiver. 

That's  about  the  truth. 

Falk 

Hurrah!    Your  spendthrift  pocket  has  a  groat 
Or  two  still  left,  it  seems,  of  poetry. 

Stiver. 
[Stiffly.] 

I  cannot  see  what  poetry  has  got 

To  do  with  my  engagement,  or  with  me. 

Falk. 

You  are  not  meant  to  see;  when  lovers  prove 
What  love  is,  all  is  over  with  their  love. 

Guldstad. 
[To  Stiver.] 

But  if  there's  matter  for  adjustment,  pray 
Let's  hear  it. 


352  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  1 

Stiver. 

I've  been  pondering  all  day 
Whether  the  thing  is  proper  to  disclose, 
But  still  the  Ayes  are  balanced  by  the  Noes. 

Falk. 
I'll  right  you  in  one  sentence.     Ever  since 
As  plighted  lover  you  were  first  installed, 
You've  felt  yourself,  if  I  may  say  so,  galled — 

Stiver. 
And  sometimes  to  the  quick. 

Falk. 

You've  had  to  wince 
Beneath  a  crushing  load  of  obligations 
That  you'd  send  packing,  if  good  form  permitted. 
That's  what's  the  matter. 

Stiver. 

Monstrous  accusations! 
My  legal  debts  I've  honestly  acquitted; 
But  other  bonds  next  month  are  falling  due; 

[To  GULDSTAD. 

When  a  man  weds,  you  see,  he  gets  a  wife — 

Falk. 

[  Triumphant.] 

Now  your  youth's  heaven  once  again  is  blue, 
There  rang  an  echo  from  your  old  song-life! 
That's  how  it  is:  I  read  you  thro'  and  thro'; 
Wings,  wings  were  all  you  wanted, — and  a  knife! 

Stiver. 
A  knife  ? 


act  i]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  353 

Falk. 

Yes,  Resolution's  knife,  to  sever 
Each  captive  bond,  and  set  you  free  for  ever, 
To  soar — 

Stiver. 
[Angrily.] 

Nay,  now  you're  insolent  beyond 
Endurance!    Me  to  charge  with  violation 
Of  law, — me,  me  with  plotting  to  abscond! 
It's  libellous,  malicious  defamation, 
Insult  and  calumny — 

Falk. 

Are  you  insane? 
What  is  all  this  about?    Explain!    Explain! 

GULDSTAD. 

[Laughingly  to  Stiver.] 

Yes,  clear  your  mind  of  all  this  balderdash! 
What  do  you  want  ? 

Stiver. 
[Pulling  himself  together.] 

A  trifling  loan  in  cash. 

Falk. 
A  loan! 

Stiver. 
[Hurriedly  to  Guldstad.] 

That  is,  I  mean  to  say,  you  know, 
A  voucher  for  a  ten  pound  note,  or  so. 


354  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  i 

Miss  Jay. 
[To  Lind  and  Anna.] 
I  wish  you  joy!    How  lovely,  how  delicious! 

Guldstad. 
[Going  up  to  the  ladies] 

Pray  what  has  happened  ? 

[To  himself.] 

This  was  unpropitiouS. 

Falk. 

[Throws  his  arms  about  Stiver's  neck.] 

Hurrah!  the  trumpet's  dulcet  notes  proclaim 
A  brother  born  to  you  in  Amor's  name! 

[Drags  him  to  the  others. 

Miss  Jay. 

[To  the  gentlemen.] 

Think !    Lind  and  Anna — think ! — have  plighted 

hearts, 
Affianced  lovers! 

Mrs.  Halm. 

[With  tears  of  emotion.] 

'Tis  the  eighth  in  order 
Who  well-provided  from  this  house  departs; 

[To.  Falk. 
Seven  nieces  wedded — always  with  a  boarder — 

[Is    overcome;  presses  her  handkerchief  to  her 
eyes. 


act  i]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  355 

Miss  Jay. 
[To  Anna.] 

Well,  there  will  come  a  flood  of  gratulation! 

[Caresses  tier  with  emotion. 
\ 

LlND. 

[Seizing  Falk's  hand.] 
My  friend,  I  walk  in  rapt  intoxication!  v 

Falk. 

Hold !    As  a  plighted  man  you  are  a  member 
Of  Rapture's  Temperance-association. 
Observe  its  rules; — no  orgies  here,  remember! 

[Turning  to  Guldstad  sympathetically. 
Well,  my  good  sir! 

Guldstad. 
[Beaming  with  pleasure.] 

I  think  this  promises 
All  happiness  for  both. 

Falk. 

[Staring  at  him.] 

You  seem  to  stand 
The  shock  with  exemplar}'  self-command. 
That's  well. 

Guldstad. 
What  do  you  mean,  sir? 


356  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  i 

Falk. 

Only  this; 
That  inasmuch  as  you  appeared  to  feed 
Fond  expectations  of  your  own — 

GULDSTAD. 

Indeed  ? 

Falk. 

At  any  rate,  you  were  upon  the  scent. 

You  named  Miss  Halm;   you  stood  upon  this  spot 

And  asked  me — 

Guldstad. 
[Smiling.] 
There  are  two,  though,  are  there  not  ? 

Falk. 
It  was — the  other  sister  that  you  meant  ? 

Guldstad. 

That    sister,  yea',  the  other  one, — just  so. 
Judge  for  yourself,  when  you  have  come  to  know 
That  sister  better,  if  she  has  not  in  her 
Merits  which,  if  they  were  divined,  would  win  her 
A  little  more  regard  than  we  bestow. 

Falk. 

[Coldly.] 

Her  virtues  are  of  every  known  variety 
I'm  sure. 


357 


act  i]  LOVE'S   COMEDY 

GULDSTAD. 

Not  quite;   the  accent  of  society 
She  cannot  hit  exactly;   there  she  loses. 

Falk. 
A  grievous  fault. 

Guldstad. 

But  if  her  mother  chooses 
lo  spend  a  winter  on  her,  she'll  come  out  of  it 
Queen  of  them  all,  I'll  wager. 

Falk. 

Not  a  doubt  of  it. 
Guldstad. 
[Laughing.] 
Young  women  are  odd  creatures,  to  be  sure! 

Falk. 

[Gaily.] 
Like  winter  rye-seed,  canopied  secure 
By  frost  and  snow,  invisibly  they  sprout. 

Guldstad. 
Then  in  the  festive  ball-room  bedded  out— 


Falk. 
With  equivoque  and  scandal  for 

Guldstad. 
And  when  the  April  sun  shines- 


manure — 


358  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  i 

Falk. 

There  the  blade  is; 
The  seed  shot  up  in  mannikin  green  ladies! 

[Lind  comes  up  and  seizes  Falk's  hand. 

Lind. 

How  well  I  chose, — past  understanding  well; — 
I  feel  a  bliss  that  nothing  can  dispel. 

Guldstad. 

There  stands  your  mistress;    tell  us,  if  you  can, 
The  right  demeanour  for  a  plighted  man. 

Lind. 
[Perturbed.] 
That's  a  third  person's  business  to  declare. 

Guldstad. 

[Joking.] 

Ill-tempered!    This  to  Anna's  ears  I'll  bear. 

[Goes  to  the  ladies. 

Lind. 

[Looking  after  him.] 

Can  such  a  man  be  tolerated  ? 

Falk. 

You 
Mistook  his  aim,  however, — 

Lind. 

And  how  so  ? 


act  i]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  359 

Falk. 
It  was  not  Anna  that  he  had  in  view. 

Lind. 
How,  was  it  Svanhild  ? 

Falk. 

Well,  I  hardly  know. 

[Whimsically. 
Forgive  me,  martyr  to  another's  cause! 

Lind. 
What  do  you  mean  ? 

Falk. 

You've  read  the  news  to-night  ? 

Lind. 
No. 

Falk. 

Do  so.    There  'tis  told  in  black  and  white 
Of  one  who,  ill-luck's  bitter  counsel  taking, 
Had  his  sound  teeth  extracted  from  his  jaws 
Because  his  cousin-german's  teeth  were  aching. 

Miss  Jay. 
[Looking  out  to  the  left.] 
Here  comes  the  priest! 

Mrs.  Halm. 

Now  see  a  man  of  might! 


360  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  i 

Stiver. 
Five  children,  six,  seven,  eight — 

Falk. 

And,  heavens,  all  recent! 

Miss  Jay. 
Ugh!    it  is  almost  to  be  called  indecent. 

\A  carriage  has  meantime  been  heard  stopping 
outside  to  the  left.  Strawman,  his  wife,  and 
eight  little  girls,  all  in  travelling  dress,  enter 
one  by  one. 

Mrs.  Halm. 
[Advancing  to  meet  them.] 
Welcome,  a  hearty  welcome! 

Strawman. 

Thank  you. 

Mrs.  Strawman. 

Is  it 
A  party  ? 

Mrs.  Halm. 
No,  dear  madam,  not  at  all. 

Mrs.  Strawman. 
If  we  disturb  you — 

Mrs.  Halm. 

Au  contraire,  your  visit 
Could  in  no  wise  more  opportunely  fall. 
My  Anna's  just  engaged. 


act  i]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  361 

Strawman. 

[Shaking  Anna's  hand  with  unction,] 

Ah  then,  I  must 
Bear  witness; — Lo!  in  wedded  Love's  presented 
A  treasure  such  as  neither  moth  nor  rust 
Corrupt — if  it  be  duly  supplemented. 

Mrs.  Halm. 

.  But  how  delightful  that  your  little  maids 
Should  follow  you  to  town. 

Strawman. 

Four  tender  blades 
We  have  besides. 

Mrs.  Halm. 
Ah,  really  ? 

Strawman. 

Three  of  whom 
Are  still  too  infantine  to  take  to  heart 
A  loving  father's  absence,  when  I  come 
To  town  for  sessions. 

Miss  Jay. 
[To  Mrs.  Halm,  bidding  farewell.] 
Now  I  must  depart 

Mrs.  Halm 

O,  it  is  still  so  early! 

Miss  Jay. 

I  must  fly 
To  town  and  spread  the  news.    The  Storms,  I  know, 


362  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  i 

Go  late  to  rest,  they  will  be  up;   and  oh! 
How  glad  the  aunts  will  be!    Now,  dear,  put  by 
Your  shyness;   for  to-morrow  a  spring-tide 
Of  callers  will  flow  in  from  every  side! 

Mrs.  Halm. 
Well,  then,  good-night.  ^  ^  ^ 

Now  friends,  what  would  you  say 
To  drinking  tea  ? 

[To  Mrs.  Strawman. 
Pray,  madam,  lead  the  way. 
[Mrs.   Halm,  Strawman,  his   wife   and  chil- 
dren, with  Guldstad,  Lind,  and  Anna  go 
into  the  house. 

Miss  Jay. 

[Taking  Stiver's  arm.] 

Now  let's  be  tender!    Look  how  softly  floats 
Queen  Luna  on  her  throne  o'er  lawn  and  lea! 
Well,  but  you  are  not  looking! 

Stiver. 

[Crossly.] 

Yes,  I  see; 
I'm  thinking  of  the  promissory  notes. 

[Tliey  go  out  to  the  left.  Falk,  who  has  been 
continuously  watching  Strawman  and  his 
wife,  remains  behind  alone  in  the  garden. 
It  is  now  dark;  the  house  is  lighted  up. 

Falk. 

All  is  as  if  burnt  out;   all  desolate,  dead — ! 
So  thro'  the  world  they  wander,  two  and  two; 


act  i]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  363 

Charred  wreckage,  like  the  blackened  stems  that 

strew 
The  forest  when  the  withering  fire  is  fled. 
Far  as  the  eye  can  travel,  all  is  drought, 
And  nowhere  peeps  one  spray  of  verdure  out! 

[Svanhild  comes  out  on  to  the  verandah  with  a 
flowering  rose-tree  which  she  sets  down. 
Yes  one — yes  one — ! 

Svanhild. 

Falk,  in  the  dark  ? 

Falk. 

And  fearless! 
Darkness  to  me  is  fair,  and  light  is  cheerless. 
But  are  not    you    afraid  in  yonder  walls 
Where  the  lamp's  light  on  sallow  corpses  falls— 

Svanhild. 
Shame! 

Falk. 
{Looking  after  Strawman,  who  appears  at  the  window. 
He  was  once  so  brilliant  and  so  strong; 
Warred  with  the  world  to  win  his  mistress;   passed 
For  Custom's  doughtiest  iconoclast; 
And  poured  forth  love  in  paeans  of  glad  song—! 
Look  at  him  now!    In  solemn  robes  and  wraps, 
A  two-legged  drama  on  his  own  collapse! 
And  she,  the  limp-skirt  slattern,  with  the  shoes 
Heel-trodden,  that  squeak  and  clatter  in  her  traces, 
This  is  the  winged  maid  who  was  his  Muse 
And  escort  to  the  kingdom  of  the  graces! 
Of  all  that  fire  this  puff  of  smoke's  the  end ! 
Sic  transit  gloria  amoris,  friend. 


364  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  i 

SVANHILD. 

Yes,  it  is  wretched,  wretched  past  compare. 
I  know  of  no  one's  lot  that  I  would  share. 

Falk. 

[Eagerly.] 

Then  let  us  two  rise  up  and  bid  defiance 
To  this  same  order  Art,  not  Nature,  bred! 

Svanhild. 

[Shaking  her  head.] 

Then  were  the  cause  for  which  we  made  alliance 
Ruined,  as  sure  as  this  is  earth  we  tread. 

Falk. 

No,  triumph  waits  upon  two  souls  in  unity. 

To  Custom's  parish-church  no  more  we'll  wend, 

Seatholders  in  the  Philistine  community. 

See,  Personality's  one  aim  and  end 

Is  to  be  independent,  free  and  true. 

In  that  I  am  not  wanting,  nor  are  you. 

A  fiery  spirit  pulses  in  your  veins, 

For  thoughts  that  master,  you  have  words  that  burn ; 

The  corslet  of  convention,  that  constrains 

The  beating  hearts  of  other  maids,  you  spurn. 

The  voice  that  you  were  born  with  will  not  chime  to 

The  chorus  Custom's  baton  gives  the  time  to. 

Svanhild. 

And  do  you  think  pain  has  not  often  pressed 
Tears  from  my  eyes,  and  quiet  from  my  breast  ? 
I  longed  to  shape  my  way  to  my  own  bent — 


act  i]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  365 

Falk. 
"  In  pensive  ease  ?  " 

Svanhild. 

O  no,  'twas  sternly  meant. 
But  then  the  aunts  came  in  with  well-intended 
Advice,  the  matter  must  be  sifted,  weighed — 

[Coming  nearer 
"In  pensive  ease,"  you  say;  oh  no,  I  made 
A  bold  experiment — in  art. 

Falk. 

Which  ended—  ? 

Svanhild. 

In  failure.     I  lacked  talent  for  the  brush. 

The  thirst  for  freedom,  tho',  I  could  not  crush; 

Checked  at  the  easel,  it  essayed  the  stage — 

Falk. 
That  plan  was  shattered  also,  I  engage? 

Svanhild. 

Upon  the  eldest  aunt's  suggestion,  yes; 
She  much  preferred  a  place  as  governess — 

Falk. 
But  of  all  this  I  never  heard  a  word! 

Svanhild. 

[Smiling.] 

No  wonder;   they  took  care  that  none  was  heard. 
They  trembled  at  the  risk  "my  future"  ran 
If  this  were  whispered  to  unmarried  Man. 


366  .      LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  i 

Falk. 

[After  gazing  a  moment  at  her  in  meditative  sympathy.] 

That  such  must  be  your  lot  I  long  had  guessed. 

When  first  I  met  you,  I  can  well  recall, 

You  seemed  to  me  quite  other  than  the  rest, 

Beyond  the  comprehension  of  them  all. 

They  sat  at  table, — fragrant  tea  a-brewing, 

And  small-talk  humming  with  the  tea  in  tune, 

The  young  girls  blushing  and  the  young  men  cooing, 

Like  pigeons  on  a  sultry  afternoon. 

Old  maids  and  matrons  volubly  averred 

Morality  and  faith's  supreme  felicity, 

Young  wives  were  loud  in  praise  of  domesticity, 

While  you  stood  lonely  like  a  mateless  bird. 

And  when  at  last  the  gabbling  clamour  rose 

To  a  tea-orgy,  a  debauch  of  prose, 

You  seemed  a  piece  of  silver,  newly  minted, 

Among  foul  notes  and  coppers,  dulled  and  dinted. 

You  were  a  coin  imported,  alien,  strange, 

Here  valued  at  another  rate  of  change, 

Not  passing  current  in  that  babel  mart 

Of  poetry  and  butter,  cheese  and  art. 

Then — while  Miss  Jay  in  triumph  took  the  field — 

Svanhild. 
[Gravely.] 

Her  knight  behind  her,  like  a  champion  bold, 
His  hat  upon  his  elbow,  like  a  shield — 

Falk. 

Your  mother  nodded  to  your  untouched  cup: 
"Drink,  Svanhild  dear,  before  your  tea  grows  cold." 


act  i]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  367 

And  then  you  drank  the  vapid  liquor  up, 
The  mawkish  brew  beloved  of  young  and  old. 
But  that  name  gripped  me  with  a  sudden  spell; 
The  grim  old  Volsungs  as  they  fought  and  fell, 
With  all  their  faded  aeons,  seemed  to  rise 
In  never-ending  line  before  my  eyes. 
In  you  I  saw  a  Svanhild,  like  the  old,1 
But  fashioned  to  the  modern  age's  mould. 
Sick  of  its  hollow  warfare  is  the  world; 
Its  lying  banner  it  would  fain  have  furled; 
But  when  the  world  does  evil,  its  offence 
Is  blotted  in  the  blood  of  innocence. 

Svanhild. 
[With  gentle  irony.] 

I  think,  at  any  rate,  the  fumes  of  tea 
Must  answer  for  that  direful  fantasy; 
But  'tis  your  least  achievement,  past  dispute, 
To  hear  the  spirit  speaking,  when  'tis  mute. 

Falk. 
[With  emotion 

Nay,  Svanhild,  do  not  jest:   behind  your  scoff 
Tears  glitter, — O,  I  see  them  plain  enough. 
And  I  see  more:  when  you  to  dust  are  fray'd, 
And  kneaded  to  a  formless  lump  of  clay, 
Each  bungling  dilettante's  scalpel-blade 
On  you  his  dull  devices  shall  display. 
The  world  usurps  the  creature  of  God's  hand 
And  sets  its  image  in  the  place  of  His, 
Transforms,  enlarges  that  part,  lightens  this; 
And  when  upon  the  pedestal  you  stand 
1  See  Notes,  page  483. 


368  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  i 

Complete,  cries  out  in  triumph:   "Now   she  is 
At  last  what  woman  ought  to  be:   Behold, 
How  plastically  calm,  how  marble-cold! 
Bathed  in  the  lamplight's  soft  irradiation, 
How  well  in  keeping  with  the  decoration!" 

[Passionately  seizing  her  hand. 
But  if  you  are  to  die,  live  first!    Come  forth 
With  me  into  the  glory  of  God's  earth! 
Soon,  soon  the  gilded  cage  will  claim  its  prize. 
The  Lady  thrives  there,  but  the  Woman  dies, 
And  I  love  nothing  but  the  Woman  in  you. 
There,  if  they  will,  let  others  woo  and  win  you, 
But  here,  my  spring  of  life  began  to  shoot, 
Here  my  Song-tree  put  forth  its  firstling  fruit; 
Here  I  found  wings  and  flight: — Svanhild,  I  know  it, 
Only  be  mine, — here  I  shall  grow  a  poet! 

Svanhild. 
[In  gentle  reproof,  withdrawing  her  hand.] 

O,  why  have  you  betrayed  yourself?    How  sweet 
It  was  when  we  as  friends  could  freely  meet! 
You  should  have  kept  your  counsel.     Can  we  stake 
Our  bliss  upon  a  word  that  we  may  break? 
Now  you  have  spoken,  all  is  over. 

Falk. 

No! 
I've  pointed  to  the  goal, — now  leap  with  me, 
My  high-souled  Svanhild — if  you  dare,  and  show 
That  you  have  heart  and  courage  to  be  free. 

Svanhild. 
Be  free  ? 


act  i]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  369 

Falk. 

Yes,  free,  for  freedom's  all-in-all 
Is  absolutely  to  fulfil  our  Call. 
And  you  by  heaven  were  destined,  I  know  well, 
To  be  my  bulwark  against  beauty's  spell. 
I,  like  my  falcon  namesake,  have  to  swing 
Against  the  wind,  if  I  would  reach  the  sky! 
You  are  the  breeze  I  must  be  breasted  by, 
You,  only  you,  put  vigour  in  my  wing: 
Be  mine,  be  mine,  until  the  world  shall  take  you, 
When  leaves  are  falling,  then  our  paths  shall  part. 
Sing  unto  me  the  treasures  of  your  heart, 
And  for  each  song  another  song  I'll  make  you; 
So  may  you  pass  into  the  lamplit  glow 
Of  age,  as  forests  fade  without  a  throe. 

Svanhild. 

[With  suppressed  bitterness.] 

I  cannot  thank  you,  for  your  words  betray 
The  meaning  of  your  kind  solicitude. 
You  eye  me  as  a  boy  a  sallow,  good 
To  cut  and  play  the  flute  on  for  a  day. 

Falk. 

Yes,  better  than  to  linger  in  the  swamp 

Till  autumn  choke  it  with  her  grey  mists  damp ! 

[Vehemently. 
You  must!  you  shall!    To  me  you  must  present 
What  God  to  you  so  bountifully  lent. 
I  speak  in  song  what  you  in  dreams  have  meant. 
See  yonder  bird  I  innocently  slew, 


370  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  i 

Her  warbling  was  Song's  book  of  books  for  you. 
O,  yield  your  music  as  she  yielded  hers! 
My  life  shall  be  that  music  set  to  verse! 

Svanhild. 

And  when  you  know  me,  when  my  songs  are  flown, 
And  my  last  requiem  chanted  from  the  bough, — 
What  then  ? 

Falk. 

[Observing  her.] 

What  then  ?    Ah  well,  remember  now ! 
[Pointing  to  the  garden. 

Svanhild. 
[Gently.] 

Yes,  I  remember  you  can  drive  a  stone. 

Falk. 
[With  a  scornful  laugh.] 

This  is  your  vaunted  soul  of  freedom  therefore! 
All  daring,  if  it  had  an  end  to  dare  for! 

[Vehemently. 
I've  shown  you  one;    now,  once  for  all,  your  yea 
Or  nay. 

Svanhild. 

You  know  the  answer  I  must  make  you: 
I  never  can  accept  you  in  your  way. 


act  i]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  371 

Falk. 
[Coldly,  breaking  off.] 
Then  there's  an  end  of  it;   the  world  may  take  you! 
[Svanhild  has  silently  turned  away.    She  sup- 
ports her  hands  upon  the  verandah  railing, 
and  rests  her  head  upon  them. 

Falk. 

[Walks  several  times  up  and  down,  takes  a  cigar, 
stops  near  her  and  says,  after  a  pause: 
You  think  the  topic  of  my  talk  to-night 
Extremely  ludicrous,  I  should  not  wonder? 

[Pauses  for  an  answer.     Svanhild  is  silent. 
I'm  very  conscious  that  it  was  a  blunder; 
Sister's  and  daughter's  love  alone  possess  you ; 
Henceforth  I'll  wear  kid  gloves  when  I  address  you, 
Sure,  so,  of  being  understood  aright. 

[Pauses,  but  as  Svanhild  remains  motionless, 
he  turns  and  goes  towards  the  right. 

Svanhild. 

Lifting  her  head  after  a  brief  silence,  looking  at  him  and 
drawing  nearer.] 
Now  I  will  recompense  your  kind  intent 
To  save  me,  with  an  earnest  admonition. 
That  falcon-image  gave  me  sudden  vision 
What  your  "emancipation"  really  meant. 
You  said  you  were  the  falcon,  that  must  fight 
Athwart  the  wind  if  it  would  reach  the  sky, 
I  was  the  breeze  you  must  be  breasted  by, 
Else  vain  were  all  your  faculty  of  flight; 


372  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  i 

How  pitifully  mean!    How  paltry!    Nay 

How  ludicrous,  as  you  yourself  divined! 

That  seed,  however,  fell  not  by  the  way, 

But  bred  another  fancy  in  my  mind 

Of  a  far  more  illuminating  kind. 

You,  as  I  saw  it,  were  no  falcon,  but 

A  tuneful  dragon,  out  of  paper  cut, 

Whose  Ego  holds  a  secondary  station, 

Dependent  on  the  string  for  animation; 

Its  breast  was  scrawled  with  promises  to  pay 

In  cash  poetic, — at  some  future  day; 

The  wings  were  stiff  with  barbs  and  shafts  of  wit 

That  wildly  beat  the  air,  but  never  hit; 

The  tail  was  a  satiric  rod  in  pickle 

To  castigate  the  town's  infirmities, 

But  all  it  compass'd  was  to  lightly  tickle 

The  casual  doer  of  some  small  amiss. 

So  you  lay  helpless  at  my  feet,  imploring: 

"O  raise  me,  how  and  where  is  all  the  same! 

Give  me  the  power  of  singing  and  of  soaring, 

No  matter  at  what  cost  of  bitter  blame!" 

Falk. 
[Clenching  his  fists  in  inward  agitation.] 
Heaven  be  my  witness — ! 

Svanhild. 

No,  you  must  be  told : — 
For  such  a  childish  sport  I  am  too  old. 
But  you,  whom  Nature  made  for  high  endeavour, 
Are  you  content  the  fields  of  air  to  tread 
Hanging  your  poet's  life  upon  a  thread 
That  at  my  pleasure  I  can  slip  and  sever? 


act  i]  LOVE'S  COMEDY  378 

Falk. 
[Hurriedly.] 
What  is  the  date  to-day  ? 

Svanhild. 
[More  gently.] 

Why,  now,  that's  right! 
Mind  well  this  day,  and  heed  it,  and  beware; 
Trust  to  your  own  wings  only  for  your  flight, 
Sure,  if  they  do  not  break,  that  they  will  bear. 
The  paper  poem  for  the  desk  is  fit, 
That  which  is  lived  alone  has  life  in  it; 
'That   only  has  the  wings  that  scale  the  height; 
Choose  now  between  them,  poet:    be,  or  write! 

[Nearer  to  him. 
Now,  I  have  done  what  you  besought  me;   now 
My  requiem  is  chanted  from  the  bough; 
My  only  one;   now  all  my  songs  are  flown; 
Now  if  you  will,  I'm  ready  for  the  stone! 

[She  goes  into  the  house;  Falk  remains  motion- 
less, looking  after  her;  far  out  on  the  fjord  is 
seen  a  boat,  from  which  the  following  chorus 
is  faintly  heard: 

Chorus. 

My  wings  I  open,  my  sails  spread  wide, 
And  cleave  like  an  eagle  life's  glassy  tide; 

Gulls  follow  my  furrow's  foaming; 
Overboard  with  the  ballast  of  care  and  cark; 
And  what  if  I  shatter  my  roaming  bark, 

It  is  passing  sweet  to  be  roaming! 


374  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act; 

Falk. 

[Starting  from  a  reverie.] 

What,  music?    Ah,  it  will  be  Lind's  quartette 
Getting  their  jubilation  up. — Well  met! 

[To  Guldstad,  who  enters  with  an  overcoat  on 
his  arm. 
Ah,  slipping  off,  sir  ? 

Guldstad. 

Yes,  with  your  goodwill. 
But  let  me  first  put  on  my  overcoat. 
We  prose-folks  are  susceptible  to  chill; 
The  night  wind  takes  us  by  the  tuneless  throat. 
Good  evening! 

Falk. 

Sir,  a  word  ere  you  proceed! 
Show  me  a  task,  a  mighty  one,  you  know — ! 
I'm  going  in  for  life — ! 

Guldstad. 

[With  ironical  emphasis.] 

Well,  in  you  go! 
You'll  find  that  you  are  i  n   for  it,  indeed. 

Falk. 

[Looking  reflectively  at  him,  says  slowly.] 

There  is  my  program,  furnished  in  a  phrase. 

[In  a  lively  outburst 
Now    I  have  wakened  from  my  dreaming  days, 
I've  cast  the  die  of  life's  supreme  transaction, 
I'll  show  you — else  the  devil  take  me — 


I 


act  i]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  375 

GULDSTAD. 

Fie, 
No  cursing;   curses  never  scared  a  fly. 

Falk. 

Words,  words,  no  more,  buf  action,  only  action! 
I  will  reverse  the  plan  of  the  Creation; — 
Six  days  were  lavish'd  in  that  occupation; 
My  world's  still  lying  void  and  desolate, 
Hurrah,  to-morrow,  Sunday — I'll  create! 

Guldstad. 
[Laughing.] 

Yes,  strip,  and  tackle  it  like  a  man,  that's  right! 
But  first  go  in  and  sleep  on  it.     Good-night! 

[Goes  out  to  tlie  left.    Svanhild  appears  in  the 

room  over  the  verandah;  she  shuts  the  windoiv 

and  draws  down  tJie  blind. 

Falk. 

No,  first  I'll  act.    I've  slept  too  long  and  late. 

[Looks  up  at  Svanhild's  windoiv,  and  exclaims, 
as  if  seized  unth  a  sudden  resolution: 
Good-night!     Good-night!     Sweet  dreams  to-night 

be  thine; 
To-morrow,  Svanhild,  thou  art  plighted  mine! 

[Goes  out  quickly  to  the  right;  from  the  water 
tfie  Chorus  is  heard  again. 

•  Chorus. 

Maybe  I  shall  shatter  my  roaming  bark, 
But  it's  passing  sweet  to  be  roaming! 

[The  boat  slowly  glides  away  as  the  curtain  falls. 


ACT  SECOND 

Sunday  afternoon.  Well-dressed  ladies  and  gentlemen  are 
drinking  coffee  on  the  verandah.  Several  of  the 
guests  appear  through  the  open  glass  door  in  the  gar- 
den-room;  the  following  song  is  heard  from  within. 

Chorus. 

Welcome,  welcome,  new  plighted  pair 

To  the  merry  ranks  of  the  plighted ! 

Now  you  may  revel  as  free  as  air, 

Caress  without  stint  and  kiss  without  care, — 

No  longer  of  footfall  affrighted. 

Now  you  are  licensed,  wherever  you  go, 
To  the  rapture  of  cooing  and  billing; 
Now  you  have  leisure  love's  seed  to  sow, 
Water,  and  tend  it,  and  make  it  grow; — 
Let  us  see  you've  a  talent  for  tilling! 

Miss  Jay. 

[Within.] 

Ah  Lind,  if  I  only  had  chanced  to  hear, 
I  would  have  teased  you ! 

A  Lady. 

[Within.] 

How  vexatious  though! 
376 


act  ii]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  377 

Another  Lady. 
[In  the  doorway.] 
Dear  Anna,  did  he  ask  in  writing  ? 

An  Aunt. 

No! 

Miss  Jay. 
Mine  did. 

A  Lady. 

[On  the  verandah.] 

How  long  has  it  been  secret,  dear? 

[Runs  into  tJie  room. 

Miss  Jay. 
To-morrow  there  will  be  the  ring  to  choose. 

Ladies. 
[Eagerly.] 
We'll  take  his  measure! 

Miss  Jay. 

Nay;  that  she  must  do. 

Mrs.  Strawman. 
[On  the  verandah,  to  a  lady  who  is  busy  with  embroidery.] 
What  kind  of  knitting-needles  do  you  use  ? 

A  Servant. 
[In  the  door  with  a  coffee-j>ot.] 
More  coffee,  madam  ? 


378  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  ii 

A  Lady. 

Thanks,  a  drop  or  two. 

Miss  Jay. 

[To  Anna.] 

How  fortunate  you've  got  your  new  manteau 
Next  week  to  go  your  round  of  visits  in! 

An  Elderly  Lady. 
[At  the  window.] 
When  shall  we  go  and  order  the  trousseau  ? 

Mrs.  Strawman. 
How  are  they  selling  cotton-bombasine  ? 

A  Gentleman. 

[To  some  ladies  on  the  verandah.] 

Just  look  at  Lind  and  Anna;    what's  his  sport? 

Ladies. 
[With  shrill  ecstasy.] 
Gracious,  he  kissed  her  glove! 

Others. 
[Similarly,  springing  up.] 

No!     Kiss 'd  it?     Really? 

Lind. 
[Appears,  red  and  embarrassed,  in  the  doorway.] 
O,  stuff  and  nonsense!  [Disappears. 


act  ii]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  379 

Miss  Jay. 

Yes,  I  saw  it  clearly. 

Stiver. 

[In  th#  door,  with  a  coffee-cup  in  one  hand  and  a  biscuit 
in  the  other.] 

The  witnesses  must  not  mislead  the  court; 
I  here  make  affidavit,  they're  in  error. 

Miss  Jay. 
[Within.] 
Come  forward,  Anna;    stand  before  this  mirror! 

Some  Ladies. 

[Calling.] 

You,  too,  Lind ! 

Miss  Jay. 

Back  to  back!    A  little  nearer! 

Ladies. 

Come,  let  us  see  by  how  much  she  is  short. 

[All  run  into   the  garden-room;    laughter  and 

shrill  talk  are  heard  for  awhile  from  within. 
[Falk,  who  during  the  preceding  scene  has  been 

walking  about  in  the  garden,  advances  into 

the  foreground,  stops  and  looks  in  until  the 

noise  lias  somewhat  abated. 

Falk. 

There  love's  romance  is  being  done  to  death. — 
1}he  butcher  once  who  boggled  at  the  slaughter, 
Prolonging  needlessly  the  ox's  breath, — 


380  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  n 

He  got  his  twenty  days  of  bread  and  water; 
But  these — these  butchers  yonder — they  go  free. 

[Clenches  his  fist. 
I  could  be  tempted — ;  hold,  words  have  no  worth, 
I've  sworn  it,  action  only  from  henceforth! 

Lind. 
[Coming  hastily  but  cautiously  out.] 

Thank   God,   they're  talking  fashions;    now's   my 

chance 
To  slip  away — 

Falk. 

Ha,  Lind,  you've   drawn  the  prize 
Of  luck, — congratulations  buzz  and  dance 
All  day  about  you,  like  a  swarm  of  flies. 

Lind. 

They're  all  at  heart  so  kindly  and  so  nice; 
But  rather  fewer  clients  would  suffice. 
Their  helping  hands  begin  to  gall  and  fret  me; 
I'll  get  a  moment's  respite,  if  they'll  let  me. 

[Going  out  to  the  right. 

Falk. 
Whither  away  ? 

Lind. 

Our  den; — it  has  a  lock; 
In  case  you  find  the  oak  is  sported,  knock. 

Falk. 

I 

But  shall  I  not  fetch  Anna  to  you  ? 


act  ii]  LOVE'S  COMEDY  381 

LlND. 

No— 
If  she  wants  anything,  she'll  let  me  know. 
Last  night  we  were  discussing  until  late; 
We've  settled  almost  everything  of  weight; 
Besides  I  think  it  scarcely  goes  with  piety 
To  have  too  much  of  one's  beloved's  society. 

Falk. 

Yes,  you  are  right;  for  daily  food  we  need 
A  simple  diet. 

Lind. 

Pray  excuse  me,  friend. 
I  want  a  whiff  of  reason  and  the  weed; 
I  haven't  smoked  for  three  whole  days  on  enjd. 
My  blood  was  pulsing  in  such  agitation, 
I  trembled  for  rejection  all  the  time — 

Falk. 
Yes,  you  may  well  desire  recuperation — 

Lind. 
And  won't  tobacco's  flavour  be  sublime! 

[Goes  out  to  tlie  right.    Miss  Jay  and  some  other 
Ladies  come  out  of  the  garden-room. 

Miss  Jay. 
[To  Falk.] 
That  was  he  surely? 

Falk. 

Yes,  your  hunted  deer. 


382  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  n 

Ladies. 
To  run  away  from  us! 

Others. 

For  shame!    For  shame! 

Falk. 

'Tis  a  bit  shy  at  present,  but,  no  fear, 
A  week  of  servitude  will  make  him  tame. 

Miss  Jay. 
[Looking  round.] 
Where  is  he  hid  ? 

•  Fal*. 

His  present  hiding-place 
Is  in  the  garden  loft,  our  common  lair;      [Blandly. 

But  let  me  beg  you  not  to  seek  him  there; 
Give  him  a  breathing  time! 

Miss  Jay. 

Well,  good :  the  grace 
Will  not  be  long,  tho'. 

Falk. 

Nay,  be  generous! 
Ten  minutes, — then  begin  the  game  again. 
He  has  an  English  sermon  on  the  brain. 

Miss  Jay. 
An  English—  ? 


act  ii]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  383 

Ladies. 
O  you  laugh!    You're  fooling  us! 

Falk. 

I'm  in  grim  earnest.    'Tis  his  fixed  intention 
To  take  a  charge  among  the  emigrants, 
And  therefore — 

Miss  Jay. 
[With  horror] 

Heavens,  he  had  the  face  to  mention 
That  mad  idea  ?  [To  the  ladies. 

O  quick— fetch  all  the  aunts! 
Anna,  her  mother,  Mrs.  Strawman  too. 


■  I 


Ladies. 
[Agitated.] 
This  must  be  stopped ! 

All. 

We'll  make  a  great  ado! 

Miss  Jay. 
Thank  God,  they're  coming. 

[To  Anna,  who  comes  from  the  garden-room 
with  Strawman,  his  wife  and  children, 
Stiver,  Guldstad,  Mrs.  Halm  and  the 
other  guests. 

Miss  Jay. 

Do  you  know  what  Lind 
Has  secretly  determined  in  his  mind  ? 
To  go  as  missionary — 


384  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  « 

Anna. 

Yes,  I  know. 

Mrs.  Halm. 
And  you've  agreed — ! 

Anna. 
[Embarrassed.] 

That  I  will  also  go. 

Miss  Jay. 

[Indignant.] 

He's  talked  this  stuff  to  you! 

Ladies. 
[Clasping  their  hands  together.] 

What  tyranny! 

Falk. 
But  think,  his  Call  that  would  not  be  denied — ! 

Miss  Jay. 

Tut,  that's  what  people  follow  when  they're  free: 
A  bridegroom  follows  nothing  but  his  bride. — 
No,  my  sweet  Anna,  ponder,  I  entreat: 
You,  reared  in  comfort  from  your  earliest  breath — ? 

Falk. 
Yet,  sure,  to  suffer  for  the  faith  is  sweet! 


act  ii]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  385 

Miss  Jay. 

Is  one  to  suffer  for  one's  bridegroom's  faith  ? 

That  is  a  rather  novel  point  of  view. 

[To  the  ladies. 

Ladies,  attend!  ._  . 

[  1  akes  Annas  arm. 

Now  listen;   then  repeat 
For  his  instruction  what  he  has  to  do. 

[They  go  into  tlie  background  and  out  to  the  right 
in  eager  talk  with  several  of  tlie  ladies;  the 
other  guests  disperse  in  groups  about  the 
garden.  Falk  stops  Strawman,  whose  wife 
and  children  keep  close  to  him.  Guldstad 
goes  to  and  fro  during  the  following  conver- 
sation. 

Falk. 

Come,  pastor,  help  young  fervour  in  its  fight, 
Before  they  lure  Miss  Anna  from  her  vows. 

Strawman. 

[In  clerical  cadence.] 

The  wife  must  be  submissive  to  the  spouse; — 

[Reflecting. 
But  if  I  apprehended  him  aright, 
His  Call's  a  problematical  affair, 
The  Offering  altogether  in  the  air — 

Falk. 

Pray  do  not  judge  so  rashly.    I  can  give 

You  absolute  assurance,  as  I  live, 

His  Call  is  definite  and  incontestable — 


386  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  n 

Strawman. 
[Seeing  it  in  a  new  light.] 

Ah — if  there's  something  fixed— investable — 
Per    a  n  n  u  m — then  I've  nothing  more  to  say. 

Falk. 
[Impatiently.] 

You  think  the  most  of  what  I  count  the  least; 
I  mean  the    inspiration  ,- — not  the    pay! 

Strawman. 
[With  an  unctuous  smile.] 

Pay  is  the  first  condition  of  a  priest 

In  Asia,  Africa,  America, 

Or  where  you  will.    Ah  yes,  if  he  were  free, 

My  dear  young  friend,  I  willingly  agree, 

The  thing  might  pass;  but,  being  pledged  and  bound, 

He'll  scarcely  find  the  venture  very  sound. 

Reflect,  he's  young  and  vigorous,  sure  to  found 

A  little  family  in  time;   assume  his  will 

To  be  the  very  best  on  earth — but  still 

The  means,   my  friend —  ?    'Build  not  upon  the 

sand,' 
Says  Scripture.    If,  upon  the  other  hand, 
The  Offering— 

Falk. 

That's  no  trifle,  I'm  aware. 

Strawman. 

Ah,  come — that  wholly  alters  the  affair. 
When  men  are  zealous  in  their  Offering, 
And  liberal — 


act  ii]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  387 

Falk. 
There  he  far  surpasses  most. 

Strawman. 

"He"  say  you  ?    How  ?    In  virtue  of  his  post 
The  Offering  is  not  what  he  has  to    bring 
But  what  he  has  to    get. 

Mrs.  Strawman. 
[Looking  towards  tlie  background.] 

They're  sitting  there. 

Falk. 

[After  staring  a  moment  in  amazement,  suddenly  under- 
stands and  bursts  out  laughing.] 

Hurrah  for  Offerings — the  ones  that  caper 
And  strut — on  Holy-days — in  bulging  paper! 

Strawman. 

All  the  year  round  the  curb  and  bit  we  bear, 

But  Whitsuntide  and  Christmas  make  things  square.  • 

Falk. 

[Gaily.] 

Why  then,  provided  only  there's  enough  of  it, 
Even  family-founders  will  obey  their  Calls. 

Strawman. 

Of  course;   a  man  assured  the  quantum  stiff,  of  it 
Will  preach  the  Gospel  to  the  cannibals. 

[Sotto  voce. 


388  LOVE'S   COMEDY  Tact  n 

Now  I  must  see  if  she  cannot  be  led, 

[  To  one  of  the  little  girls. 
Mj  little  Mattie,  fetch  me  out  my  head — 
My  pipe-head  I  should  say,  my  little  dear — 

[Feels  in  his  coat-tail  pocket. 
Nay,  wait  a  moment  tho':    I  have  it  here. 

[Goes  across  and  Jills  his  pipe,  followed  by  his 
wife  and  children. 

GULDSTAD. 

[Approaching .] 

You  seem  to  play  the  part  of  serpent  in 
This  paradise  of  lovers. 

Falk. 

O,  the  pips 
Upon  the  tree  of  knowledge  are  too  green 
To  be  a  lure  for  anybody's  lips. 

[To  Lind,  who  comes  in  from  the  right. 
Ha,  Lind! 

Lind. 

In  Heaven's  name,  who's  been  ravaging 
Our  sanctum  ?    There  the  lamp  lies  dashed 
To  pieces,  curtain  dragged  to  floor,  pen  smashed, 
And  on  the  mantelpiece  the  ink  pot  splashed — 

Falk. 

[Clapping  him  on  the  shoidder.] 

This  wreck's  the  first  announcement  of  my  spring; 
No  more  behind  drawn  curtains  I  will  sit, 
Making  pen  poetry  with  lamp  alit; 


act  ii]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  389 

My  dull  domestic  poetising's  done, 

I'll  walk  by  day,  and  glory  in  the  sun: 

My  spring  has  come,  my  soul  has  broken  free, 

Action  henceforth  shall  be  my  poetry. 

LlND. 

Make  poetry  of  what  you  please  for  me; 
But  how  if  Mrs.  Halm  should  take  amiss 
Your  breaking  of  her  furniture  to  pieces  ? 

Falk. 

What! — she,  who  lays  her  daughters  and  her  nieces 
Upon  the  altar  of  her  boarders'  bliss, — 
She  frown  at  such  a  bagatelle  as  this! 

LlND. 

[Angrily.] 

It's  utterly  outrageous  and  unfair, 

And  compromises  me  as  well  as  you! 

But  that's  her  business,  settle  it  with  her. 

The  lamp  was  mine,  tho',  shade  and  burner  too — 

Falk. 

Tut,  on  that  head,  I've  no  account  to  render; 
You  have  God's  summer  sunshine  in  its  splendour, — 
What  would  you  with  the  lamp  ? 

LlND. 

You  are  grotesque; 
You  utterly  forget  that  summer  passes; 
If  I'm  to  make  a  figure  in  my  classes 
At  Christmas  I  must  buckle  to  my  desk. 


390  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  ii 

Falk. 

[Staring  at  him.] 
What,  you  look    forward  ? 

Lind. 

To  be  sure  I  do, 
The  examination's  amply  worth  it  too. 

Falk. 

Ah  but — you  'only  sit  and  live' — remember! 
Drunk  with  the  moment,  you  demand  no  more — 
Not  even  a  modest  third-class  next  December. 
You've  caught  the  bird  of  Fortune  fair  and  fleet, 
You  feel  as  if  the  world  with  all  its  store 
Were  scattered  in  profusion  at  your  feet. 

Lind. 

Those  were  my  words;   they  must  be  understood, 
Of  course,  cum  grano  salis — 

Falk. 

Very  good ! 

Lind. 

In  the    forenoons    I  will  enjoy  my  bliss; 
That  I  am   quite  resolved   on — 

Falk. 

Daring  man! 

Lind. 

.  I  have  my  round  of  visits  to  the  clan; 
Time  will  run  anyhow  to  waste  in  this; 


act  ii]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  391 

But  any  further  dislocation  of 

My  study-plan  I  strongly  disapprove. 

Falk. 

A  week  ago,  however,  you  were  bent 

On  going  out  into  God's  world  with  song. 

Lind. 

Yes,  but  I  thought  the  tour  a  little  long; 
The  fourteen  days  might  well  be  better  spent. 

Falk 

Nay,  but  you  had  another  argument 
For  staying;    how  the  lovely  dale  for  you 
Was  mountain  air  and  winged  warble  too. 

Lind. 

Yes,  to  be  sure,  this  air  is  unalloyed; 

But  all  its  benefits  may  be  enjoyed 

Over  one's  book  without  the  slightest  bar. 

Falk. 

But  it  was  just  the   Book  which  failed,  you  see, 
As  Jacob's  ladder — 

Lind. 

How  perverse  you  arei 
That  is  what  people  say  when  they  are   f  r  e  e — 

Falk. 

[Looking  at  him  and  folding  his  hands  in  silent  amaze- 
ment.] 
Thou  also,  Brutus! 


392  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  n 

LlND. 

[With  a  shade  of  confusion -and  annoyance.] 

Pray  remember,  do! 
That  I  have  other  duties  now  than  you; 
I  have  my  fiancee.    Every  plighted  pair, 
Those  of  prolonged  experience  not  excepted, — 
Whose  evidence  you  would  not  wish  rejected, — 
Will  tell  you,  that  if  two  are  bound  to  fare 
Through  life  together,  they  must — 

•  Falk. 

Prithee  spare 
The  comment;   who  supplied  it? 

Lind. 

Well,  we'll  say 
Stiver,  he's  honest  surely;   and  Miss  Jay, 
Who  has  such  very  great  experience  here, 
She  says — 

Falk. 

Well,  but  the  Parson  and  his — dear? 

Lind. 

Yes,  they're  remarkable.     There  broods  above 
Them  such  placidity,  such  quietude, — 
Conceive,  she  can't  remember  being  wooed, 
Has  quite  forgotten  what  is  meant  by  love. 

Falk. 

Ah  yes,  when  one  has  slumber'd  over  long, 
The  birds  of  memory  refuse  their  song. 

[Laying  his  hand  on  Lind's  shoulder,  with  an 
ironical  look. 
You,  Lind,  slept  sound  last  night,  I  guarantee  ? 


act  ii]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  393 

LlND. 

And  long.    I  went  to  bed  in  such  depression, 
And  yet  with  such  a  fever  in  my  brain, 
I  almost  doubted  if  I  could  be  sane. 

Falk. 
Ah  yes,  a  sort  of  witchery,  you  see. 

Lind. 
Thank  God  I  woke  in  perfect  self-possession 

[During  the  foregoing  scene  Strawman  has  been 
seen  from  time  to  time  walking  in  the  back- 
ground in  lively  conversation  with  Anna; 
Mrs.  Strawman  and  tlie  children  follow. 
Miss  Jay  now  appears  also,  and  with  her 
Mrs.  Halm  and  other  ladies. 

Miss  Jay. 
[Before  she  enters.] 
Ah,  Mr.  Lind. 

Lind. 

[To  Falk.] 

They're  after  me  again! 
Come,  let  us  go. 

Miss  Jay. 

Nay,  nay,  you  must  remain, 
Let  us  make  speedy  end  of  the  division 
That  has  crept  in  between  your  love  and  you. 

Lind. 

Are  we  divided  ? 


394  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  ii 

Miss  Jay. 

[Pointing  to  Anna,  who  is  standing  furtlier  off  in  the 

garden.] 
Gather  the  decision 
From  yon  red  eyes.     The  foreign  mission  drew 
Those  tears. 

Lind. 
But  heavens,  she  was  glad  to  go — 

Miss  Jay. 
[Scoffing.] 

Yes,  to  be  sure,  one  would  imagine  so! 
No,  my  dear  Lind,  you'll  take  another  view 
When  you  have  heard  the  whole  affair  discussed. 

Lind. 

But  then  this  warfare  for  the  faith,  you  know, 
Is  my  most  cherished  dream! 

Miss  Jay. 

O  who  would  build 
On  dreaming  in  this  century  of  light  ? 
Why,  Stiver  had  a  dream  the  other  night; 
There  came  a  letter  singularly  sealed — 

Mrs.  Strawman. 
It's    treasure    such  a  dream  prognosticates. 

Miss  Jay. 

[Nodding.] 

Yes,  and  next  day  they  sued  him  for  the  rates. 

[The  ladies  make  a  circle  round  Lind  and  go  in 
conversation  with  him  into  the  garden. 


actiiJ  LOVE'S   COMEDY  395 

Strawman. 
[Continuing,  to  Anna,  who  faintly  tries  to  escape.] 

From  these  considerations,  daughter  mine, 
From  these  considerations,  buttressed  all 
With  reason,  morals,  and  the  Word  Divine, 
You  now  perceive  that  to  desert  your  Call 
Were  absolutely  inexcusable. 

Anna. 
[Half  crying.] 
Oh!     I'm  so  young — 

Strawman. 

And  it  is  natural, 
I  own,  that  one  should  hesitate  to  thrid 
These  perils,  dare  the  snares  that  there  lie  hid; 
From  doubt's  entanglement  you  must  break  free, — 
Be  of  good  cheer  and  follow  Moll  and  me! 

Mrs.  Strawman. 

Yes,  your  dear  mother  tells  me  that  I  too 
Was  just  as  inconsolable  as  you 
When  we  received  our  Call — 

Strawman. 

And  for  like  cause — 
The  fascination  of  the  town — it  was; 
But  when  a  little  money  had  come  in, 
And  the  first  pairs  of  infants,  twin  by  twin, 
She  quite  got  over  it. 


396  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  n 

Falk. 
[Sotto  voce  to  Strawman.] 

Bravo,  you  able 
Persuader. 

Strawman. 
[Nodding  to  him  and  turning  again  to  Anna.] 

Now  you've  promised  me,  be  stable. 
Shall  man  renounce  his  work  ?    Falk  says  the  Call 
Is  not  so  very  slender  after  all. 
Did  you  not,  Falk  ? 

Falk. 
Nay,  pastor — 

Strawman. 

To  be  sure — ! 
[To  Anna. 
Of  something  then  at  least  you  are  secure. 
What's  gained  by  giving  up,  if  that  is  so  ? 
Look  back  into  the  ages  long  ago, 
See,  Adam,  Eve — the  Ark,  see,  pair  by  pair, 
Birds  in  the  field — the  lilies  in  the  air, 
The  little  birds — the  little  birds — the  fishes — 

[Continues  in  a  lower  tone,   as  fie  withdraws 
with  Anna. 
[Miss  Jay  and  the  Aunts  return  with  Lind.] 

Falk. 

Hurrah!    Here  come  the  veterans  in  array; 
The  old  guard  charging  to  retrieve  the  day! 


act  ii]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  397 

Miss  Jay. 
Ah,  in  exact  accordance  with  our  wishes!       [Aside. 

We    have    him,  Falk!— Now  let  us  tackle    her! 

[Approaches  Anna. 
Strawman. 
[With  a  deprecating  motion.'] 
She  needs  no  secular  solicitation; 
The  Spirit  has  spoken,  what  can  Earth  bestead—  ? 

[Modestly. 
If  in  some  small  degree  my  words  have  sped, 
Power  was  vouchsafed  me — ! 

Mrs.  Halm. 

Come,  no  more  evasion, 
Bring  them  together! 

Aunts. 
[With  emotion.] 

Ah,  how  exquisite! 

Strawman. 

Yes,  can  there  be  a  heart  so  dull  and  dead 

As  not  to  be  entranced  at  such  a  sight 

It  is  so  thrilling  and  so  penetrating, 

So  lacerating,  so  exhilarating, 

To  see  an  innocent  babe  devoutly  lay 

Its  offering  on  Duty's  altar. 

Mrs.  Halm. 

Nay, 
Her  family  have  also  done  their  part. 


n 


398  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  ii 

Miss  Jay. 

I  and  the  Aunts — I  should  imagine  so. 

You,  Lind,  may  have  the  key  to  Anna's  heart, 

[Presses  his  hand. 
But  we  possess  a  picklock,  you  must  know, 
Able  to  open  where  the  key  avails  not. 
And  if  in  years  to  come,  cares  throng  and  thwart, 
Only  apply  to  us,  our  friendship  fails  not. 

Mrs.  Halm. 
Yes,  we  shall  hover  round  you  all  your  life, — 

Miss  Jay. 
And  shield  you  from  the  fiend  of  wedded  strife. 

Strawman. 

Enchanting  group!    Love,  friendship,  hour  of  glad- 
ness, 
Yet  so  pathetically  touched  with  sadness. 

[Turning  to  Lind. 
But  now,  young  man,  pray  make  an  end  of  this. 

[Leading  Anna  to  him. 
Take  thy  betrothed — receive  her — with  a  kiss! 

Lind. 
[Giving  his  hand  to  Anna.] 
I  stay  at  home! 

Anna. 
[At  the  same  moment.] 
I  go  with  you! 


act  ii]  LOVE'S  COMEDY  399 

Anna. 

[Amazed.] 
You  stay  ? 

Lind. 
[Equally  so.] 

You  go  with  me  ? 
Anna. 
[With  a  fielpless  glance  at  the  company.] 
Why,  then,  we  are  divided  as  before! 

Lind. 
What's  this  ? 

The  Ladies. 
What  now  ? 

Miss  Jay. 

[Excitedly.] 

Our  wills  are  all  at  war— 

Strawman 

She  gave  her  solemn  word  to  cross  the  sea 
With  him! 

Miss  Jay. 

And  he  gave  his  to  slay  ashore 
With  her! 

Falk. 
[Laughing.] 
They  both  complied;  what  would  you  more! 


400  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  ii 

Strawman. 

These  complications  are  too  much  for  me. 

[Goes  towards  tlie  background. 

Aunts 
[To  one  another.] 
How  in  the  world  came  they  to  disagree  ? 

Mrs.  Halm. 

[To    Guldstad    and   Stiver,    who   have   been  walking 
in  the  garden  and  now  approach.] 

The  spirit  of  discord's  in  possession  here. 

[Talks  aside  to  them. 

Mrs.  Strawman. 

[To  Miss  Jay,  noticing  that  the  table  is  being  laid.] 
There  comes  the  tea. 

Miss  Jay. 

[Curtly.] 

Thank  heaven. 

Falk. 

Hurrah!  a  cheer 
For  love  and  friendship,  maiden  aunts  and  tea! 

Stiver. 

But  if  the  case  stands  thus,  the  whole  proceeding 

May  easily  be  ended  with  a  laugh; 

All  turns  upon  a  single  paragraph, 

Which  bids  the  wife  attend  the  spouse.    No  pleading 

Can  wrest  an  ordinance  so  clearly  stated — 


401 


act  ii]  LOVE'S   COMEDY 

Miss  Jay. 
Doubtless,  but  does  that  help  us  to  agree? 

Strawman. 
She  must  obey  a  law  that  heaven  dictated. 

Stiver. 
But  Lind  can  circumvent  that  law,  you  see. 

p    *      a  .  [To  LlND, 

fat  off  your  journey,  and  then-budge  no  jot. 

Aunts. 
[Delighted.] 
Yes,  that's  the  way. 

Mrs.  Halm. 
Agreed ! 

Miss  Jay. 

That  cuts  the  knot. 
F*AKHII4>  and  the  maids  have  meantime  laid 
the  tea-table  beside  the  verandah  steps  At 
MRS.  Halm's  invitation  the  ladies  sit  down 
1  he  rest  of  the  company  take  their  places, 
partly  on  the  verandah  and  in  the  summer, 
house  partly  m  the  garden.  Palk  sits  on  the 
*u1£     Durin(J  the  fol^ng  scene  they 

Mrs.  Halm. 
[Smiling.] 

And  so  our  little  storm  is  overblown 

buch  summer  showers  do  good  when  they  are  gone; 


402  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  n 

The  sunshine  greets  us  with  a  double  boon, 
And  promises  a  cloudless  afternoon. 

Miss  Jay. 

Ah  yes,  Love's  blossom  without  rainy  skies 
Would  never  thrive  according  to  our  wishes. 

Falk. 

In  dry  land  set  it,  and  it  forthwith  dies; 
For  in  so  far  the  flowers  are  like  the  fishes — 

Svanhild. 
Nay,  for  Love  lives,  you  know,  upon  the  air — 

Miss  Jay. 
Which  is  the  death  of  fishes — 

Falk. 

So  I  say. 

Miss  Jay. 
Aha,  we've  put  a  bridle  on  you  there! 

Mrs.  Strawman. 
The  tea  is  good,  one  knows  by  the  bouquet. 

Falk. 

Well,  let  us  keep  the  simile  you  chose. 

Love  is  a  flower;   for  if  heaven's  blessed  rain 

Fall  short,  it  all  but  pines  to  death —  [Pauses. 

Miss  Jay. 

What  then  ? 


act  ii]  LOVE'S   COMEDY 


403 


Falk. 
[With  a  gallant  bow.] 

Then  come  the  aunts  with  the  reviving  hose.— 

But  poets  have  this  simile  employed, 

And  men  for  scores  of  centuries  enjoyed,— 

Yet  hardly  one  its  secret  sense  has  hit; 

For  flowers  are  manifold  and  infinite. 

Say    then,  what  flower  is  love?     Name  me,  who 

knows, 
The  flower  most  like  it  ? 

Miss  Jay. 

Why,  it  is  the  rose; 
Uood  gracious,  that's  exceedingly  well  known;— 
Love,  all  agree,  lends  life  a  rosy  tone. 

A  Young  Lady. 
It  is  the  snowdrop;   growing,  snow  enfurled; 
lill  it  peer  forth,  undreamt  of  by  the  world. 

An  Aunt. 
It  is  the  dandelion,— made  robust 
By  dint  of  human  heel  and  horse  hoof  thrust; 
Nay,  shooting  forth  afresh  when  it  is  smitten,' 
As  Pedersen  so  charmingly  has  written. 

Lind. 
It  is  the  bluebell,— ringing  in  for  all 
Young  hearts  life's  joyous  Whitsun  festival 

Mrs.  Halm. 

No,  'tis  an  evergreen,— as  fresh  and  gay 
In  desolate  December  as  in  May. 


404  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  ii 

GULDSTAD. 

No,  Iceland  moss,  dry  gathered,— far  the  best 
Cure  for  young  ladies  with  a  wounded  breast. 

A  Gentleman. 

No,  the  wild  chestnut  tree, — in  high  repute 
For  household  fuel,  but  with  a  bitter  fruit. 

Svanhild. 

No,  a  camelia;   at  our  balls,  'tis  said, 
The  chief  adornment  of  a  lady's  head. 

Mrs.  Strawman. 

No,  it  is  like  a  flower,  O  such  a  bright  one; — 
Stay  now — a  blue  one,  no,  it  was  a  white  one — 
What  i  s   its  name —  ?    Dear  me — the  one  I  met — ; 
Well  it  is  singular  how  I  forget! 

Stiver. 

None  of  these  flower  similitudes  will  run. 
The  flowerpot    is  a  likelier  candidate. 
There's  only  room  in  it,  at  once,  for   one; 
But  by  progressive  stages  it  holds   eight. 

Strawman. 

[With  his  little  girls  round  him.] 

No,  love's  a  pear  tree;  in  the  spring  like  snow 
With  myriad  blossoms,  which  in  summer  grow 
To  pearlets;  in  the  parent's  sap  each  shares; — 
And  with  God's  help  they'll  all  alike  prove  pears. 


act  ii]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  405 

Falk. 

So  many  heads,  so  many  sentences! 
No,  you  all  grope  and  blunder  off  the  line 
Each  simile's  at  fault;   I'll  tell  you  mine;— 
You're  free  to  turn  and  wrest  it  as  you  please. 

[Rises  as  if  to  make  a  speech. 
In  the  remotest  east  there  grows  a  plant;1 
And  the  sun's  cousin's  garden  is  its  haunt— 

The  Ladies. 
Ah,  it's  the  tea-plant! 

Falk. 
Yes. 

Mrs.  Strawman. 

T  .,  His  voice  is  so 

Lake  btrawman's  when  he — 

Strawman. 

Don't  disturb  his  flow. 

Falk. 
It  has  its  home  in  fabled  lands  serene; 
Thousands  of  miles  of  desert  lie  between  — 
Fill  up,  Lind!-So.-Now  in  a  tea-oration, 
1 11  show  of  tea  and  Love  the  true  relation. 

[The  guests  cluster  round  him 
It  has  its  home  in  the  romantic  land; 
Alas,  Love's  home  is  also  in  Romance, 
Only  the  Sun's  descendants  understand 
The  herb's  right  cultivation  and  advance. 
1  See  Notes,  page  483. 


406  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  n 

With  Love  it  is  not  otherwise  than  so. 
Blood  of  the  Sun  along  the  veins  must  flow 
If  Love  indeed  therein  is  to  strike  root, 
And  burgeon  into  blossom,  into  fruit. 

Miss  Jay. 

But  China  is  an  ancient  land;   you  hold 
In  consequence  that  tea  is  very  old — 

Strawman. 
Past  question  antecedent  to  Jerusalem. 

Falk. 

Yes,  'twas  already  famous  when  Methusalem 
His  picture-books  and  rattles  tore  and  flung — 

Miss  Jay. 
[  Triumphantly.] 

And  Love  is  in  its  very  nature  young! 
To  find  a  likeness  there  is  pretty  bold. 

Falk. 

No;    Love,  in  truth,  is  also  very  old; 

That  principle  we  here  no  more  dispute 

Than  do  the  folks  of  Rio  or  Beyrout. 

Nay,  there  are  those  from  Cayenne  to  Caithness, 

Who  stand  upon  its  everlastingness; — 

Well,  that  may  be  a  slight  exaggeration, 

But  old  it  is  beyond  all  estimation. 

Miss  Jay. 

But  Love  is  all  alike;   whereas  we  see 

Both  good  and  bad  and  middling  kinds  of  tea! 


act  ii]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  407 

Mrs.  Strawman. 
Yes,  they  sell  tea  of  many  qualities. 

Anna. 
The  green  spring  shoots  I  count  the  very  first— 

SVANHILD. 

Those  serve  to  quench  celestial  daughters'  thirst. 

A  Young  Lady. 
Witching  as  ether  fumes  they  say  it  is— 

Another. 
Balmy  as  lotus,  sweet  as  almond,  clear — 

GULDSTAD. 

That's  not  an  article  we  deal  in  here. 

Falk. 
[Who  has  meanwhile  come  down  from  the  verandah.] 
Ah,  ladies,  every  mortal  has  a  small 
Private  celestial  empire  in  his  heart. 
There  bud  such  shoots  in  thousands,  kept  apart 
By  Shyness's  soon  shatter'd  Chinese  Wall. 
But  in  her  dim  fantastic  temple  bower 
The  little  Chinese  puppet  sits  and  sighs, 

A  dream  of  far-off  wonders  in  her  eyes 

And  in  her  hand  a  golden  tulip  flower. 
For   her   the  tender  firstling  tendrils  grew;— 
Rich  crop  or  meagre,  what  is  that  to  you  ? 
Instead  of  it  we  get  an  after  crop 
They  kick  the  tree  for,  dust  and  stalk  and  stem- 
As  hemp  to  silk  beside  what  goes  to  them— 


408  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  ii 

GlJLDSTAD. 

That  is  the  black  tea. 

Falk. 

[Nodding.] 

That's  what  fills  the  shop. 

A  Gentleman. 
There's  beef  tea  too,  that  Holberg  says  a  word  of — 

Miss  Jay. 

[Sharply.] 
To  modern  taste  entirely  out  of  date. 

Falk. 

And  a   beef    love   has  equally  been  heard  of, 

Wont — in  romances — to  browbeat  its  mate, 

And  still  they  say  its  trace  may  be  detected 

Amongst  the  henpecked  of  the  married  state. 

In  short  there's  likeness  where  'twas  least  expected 

So,  as  you  know,  an  ancient  proverb  tells, 

That  something  ever  passes  from  the  tea 

Of  the  bouquet  that  lodges  in  its  cells, 

If  it  be  carried  hither  over  sea. 

It  must  across  the  desert  and  the  hills, — 

Pay  toll  to  Cossack  and  to  Russian  tills; — 

It  gets  their  stamp  and  licence,  that's  enough, 

We  buy  it  as  the  true  and  genuine  stuff. 

But  has  not  Love  the  self-same  path  to  fare  ? 

Across  Life's  desert  ?    How  the  world  would  rave 

And  shriek  if  you  or  I  should  boldly  bear 


act  ii]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  409 

Our  Love  by  way  of  Freedom's  ocean  wave! 
'•Good  heavens,  his  moral  savour's  passed  away, 
"And  quite  dispersed  Legality's  bouquet!"— 

Strawman. 
[Rising.] 
Yes,  happily,— in  every  moral  land 
Such  wares  continue  to  be  contraband ! 

Falk. 

Yes,  to  pass  current  here,  Love  must  have  cross'd 

The  great  Siberian  waste  of  regulations, 

Fann'd  by  no  breath  of  ocean  to  its  cost; 

It  must  produce  official  attestations 

From  friends  and  kindred,  devils  of  relations, 

From  church  curators,  organist  and  clerk, 

And  other  fine  folks — over  and  above 

The  primal  licence  which  God  gave  to  Love  — 

And  then  the  last  great  point  of  likeness;— mark 

How  heavily  the  hand  of  culture  weighs 

Upon  that  far  Celestial  domain; 

Its  power  is  shatter 'd,  and  its  wall  decays, 

The  last  true  Mandarin's  strangled;  hands  profane 

Already  are  put  forth  to  share  the  spoil; 

Soon  the  Sun's  realm  will  be  a  legend  vain, 

An  idle  tale  incredible  to  sense; 

The  world  is  gray  in  gray— we've  flung  the  soil 

On  buried  Faery,— we  have  made  her  mound. 

But  if  we  have,— then  where  can  Love  be  found  ? 

Alas,  Love  also  is  departed  hence!       [Lifts  his  cup. 

Well  let  him  go,  since  so  the  times  decree; 

A  health  to  Amor,  late  of  Earth,— in  tea! 

[He  drains  his  cup;  indignant  murmurs  amongst 
the  company. 


410  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  ii 

Miss  Jay. 
A  very  odd  expression!     "Dead"  indeed! 

The  Ladies. 
To  say  that  Love  is  dead — ! 

Strawman. 

Why,  here  you  see 
Him  sitting,  rosy,  round  and  sound,  at  tea, 
In  all  conditions!    Here  in  her  sable  weed 
The  widow — 

Miss  Jay. 
Here  a  couple,  true  and  tried, — 

Stiver. 
With  many  ample  pledges  fortified. 

Guldstad. 

Then  Love's  light  cavalry,  of  maid  and  man, 
The  plighted  pairs  in  order — 

Strawman. 

In  the  van 
The  veterans,  whose  troth  has  laughed  to  scorn 
The  tooth  of  Time — 

Miss  Jay. 
[Hastily  interrupting .] 

And  then  the  babes  new-born — 
The  little  novices  of  yester-morn — 


act  ii]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  411 

Strawman. 
Spring,  summer,  autumn,  winter,  in  a  word, 
Are  here;   the.truth  is  patent,  past  all  doubt', 
It  can  be  clutched  and  handled,  seen  and  heard,— 

Falk 
What  then  ? 

Miss  Jay. 

And  yet  you  want  to  thrust  it  out! 

Falk. 

Madam,  you  quite  mistake.     In  all  I  spoke 

I  cast  no  doubt  on  anything  you  claim; 

But  I  would  fain  remind  you  that,  from  smoke, 

We  cannot  logically  argue  flame. 

That  men  are  married,  and  have  children,  I 

Have  no  desire  whatever  to  deny; 
Nor  do  I  dream  of  doubting  that  such  things 
Are  in  the  world  as  troth  and  wedding-rings; 
That  billets-doux  some  tender  hands  indite 
And  seal  with  pairs  of  turtle  doves  that— fight; 
That  sweethearts  swarm  in  cottage  and  in  hall] 
That  chocolate  rewards  the  wedding-call; 
That  usage  and  convention  have  decreed \ 
In  every  point,  how  "Lovers"  shall  proceed:— 
But,  heavens!    We've  majors  also  by  the  score, 
Arsenals  heaped  with  muniments  of  war, 
With  spurs  and  howitzers  and  drums  and  shot, 
But  what  does  that  permit  us  to  infer? 
That  we  have  men  who  dangle  swords,  but  not 
That  they  will  wield  the  weapons  that  they  wear. 
Tho'  all  the  plain  with  gleaming  tents  you  crowd, 
Does  that  make  heroes  of  the  men  they  shroud  ? 


412  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  n 

Strawman. 

Well,  all  in  moderation;    I  must  own, 

It  is  not  quite  conducive  to  the  truth 

That  we  should  paint  the  enamourment  of  youth 

So  bright,  as  if — ahem — it  stood  alone. 

Love-making  still  a  frail  foundation  is. 

Only  the  snuggery  of  wedded  bliss 

Provides  a  rock  where  Love  may  builded  be 

In  unassailable  security. 

Miss  Jay. 

There  I  entirely  differ.     In  my  view, 
A  free  accord  of  lovers,  heart  with  heart, 
Who  hold  together,  having  leave  to  part, 
Gives  the  best  warrant  that  their  love  is  true. 

Anna. 

[Warmly.] 

O  no — Love's  bond  when  it  is  fresh  and  young 
Is  of  a  stuff  more  precious  and  more  strong. 

Lind. 

[Thoughtfully .] 

Possibly  the  ideal  flower  may  blow, 

Even  as  that  snowdrop, — hidden  by  the  snow. 

Falk. 

[With  a  sudden  outburst.] 

You  fallen  Adam!    There  a  heart  was  cleft 
With  longing  for  the  Eden  it  has  left! 


act  ii]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  413 

LlND. 

What  stuff! 

Mrs.  Halm. 
[Offended,  to  Falk,  rising.] 

'Tis  not  a  very  friendly  act 
To  stir  a  quarrel  where  we've  made  a  peace. 
As  for  your  friend's  good  fortune,  be  at  ease— 

Some  Ladies. 
Nay  that's  assured— 

Others. 

A  very  certain  fact. 

Mrs.  Halm. 
The  cooking-class  at  school,  I  must  confess, 
She  did  not  take;    but  she  shall  learn  it  still. 

Miss  Jay. 
With  her  own  hands  she's  trimming  her  own  dress, 

An  Aunt. 
[Patting  Anna's  hand.] 
And  growing  exquisitely  sensible. 

Falk. 

[Laughing  aloud.] 
O  parody  of  sense,  that  rives  and  rends 
In  maniac  dance  upon  the  lips  of  friends! 
Was  it  good  sense  he  wanted  ?    Or  a  she- 
Professor  of  the  lore  of  Cookery  ? 


414  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  n 

A  joyous  son  of  springtime  he  came  here, 
For  the  wild  rosebud  on  the  bush  he  burned. 
You  reared  the  rosebud  for  him;   he  returned — 
And  for  his  rose  found  what  ?    The  hip ! 

Miss  Jay. 

[Offended.] 

You  jeer! 

Falk. 

A  useful  household  condiment,  heaven  knows! 
But  yet  the  hip  was  not  his  bridal  rose. 

Mrs.  Halm. 

0,  if  it  is  a  ball-room  queen  he  wants, 

I'm  very  sorry;    these  are  not  their  haunts. 

Falk. 

0  yes,  I  know  the  pretty  coquetry 
They  carry  on  with  "Domesticity." 
It  is  a  suckling  of  the  mighty  Lie 

That,  like  hop-tendrils,  spreads  itself  on  high. 

1,  madam,  reverently  bare  my  head 

To  the  ball  queen;   a  child  of  beauty  she — 
And  the  ideal's  golden  woof  is  spread 
In  ball-rooms,  hardly  in  the  nursery. 

Mrs.  Halm. 

[With  suppressed  bitterness.] 

Your  conduct,  sir,  is  easily  explained; 
A  plighted  lover  cannot  be  a  friend; 
That  is  the  kernel  of  the  whole  affair; 

1  have  a  very  large  experience  there. 


act  ii]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  415 

Falk. 
No  doubt,— with  seven  nieces,  each  a  wife— 

Mrs.  Halm. 
And  each  a  happy  wife — 

Falk. 
[With  emphans.] 

Ah,  do  we  know  ? 

Guldstad. 


How! 


Miss  Jay. 
Mr.  Falk! 


Dissension  ? 


Lind. 
Are  you  resolved  to  sow 


Falk. 
[Veliemently.] 
Yes,  war,  discord,  turmoil,  strife! 

Stiver. 
What  you,  a  lay,  profane  outsider  here! 

Falk. 
No  matter,  still  the  battle-flag  I'll  rear! 
Yes,  it  is  war  I  mean  with  nail  and  tooth 
Against  the  Lie  with  the  tenacious  root, 
The  lie  that  you  have  fostered  into  fruit, 
For  all  its  strutting  in  the  guise  of  truth! 


416  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  n 

Stiver. 

Against  these  groundless  charges  I  protest, 
Reserving  right  of  action — 

Miss  Jay. 

Do  be  still! 

Falk. 

So  then  it  is  Love's  ever-running  rill 

That  tells  the  widow  what  she  once  possess'd, — 

That  very  Love  that,  in  the  days  gone  by, 

Out  of  her  language  blotted  "moan"  and  "sigh"! 

So  then  it  is  Love's  brimming  tide  that  rolls 

Along  the  placid  veins  of  wedded  souls, — 

That  very  Love  that  faced  the  iron  sleet, 

Trampling  inane  Convention  under  feet, 

And  scoffing  at  the  impotent  discreet! 

So  then  it  is  Love's  beauty-kindled  flame 

That  keeps  the  plighted  from  the  taint  of  time 

Year  after  year!    Ah  yes,  the  very  same 

That  made  our  young  bureaucrat  blaze  in  ryhme! 

So  it  is  Love's  young  bliss  that  will  not  brave 

The  voyage  over  vaulted  Ocean's  wave, 

But  asks  a  sacrifice  when,  like  the  sun, 

Its  face  should  fill  with  glory,    making    one! 

Ah  no,  you  vulgar  prophets  of  the  Lie, 

Give  things  the  names  we  ought  to  know  them  by; 

Call  widows'  passion — wanting  what  they  miss, 

And  wedlock's    habit — call  it  what  it  is! 

Strawman. 

Young  man,  this  insolence  has  gone  too  far! 
In  every  word  there's  scoffing  and  defiance. 

[Goes  close  up  to  Falk.  . 


act  ii]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  417 

Now  I'll  gird  up  my  aged  loins  to  war 

For  hallowed  custom  against  modern  science! 

Falk. 
I  go  to  battle  as  it  were  a  feast! 

Strawman 
Good !    For  your  bullets  I  will  be  a  beacon  :— 

[Nearer. 
A  wedded  pair  is  holy,  like  a  priest— 

Stiver. 
[At  Falk's  other  side.] 
And  a  betrothed — 

Falk. 

Half-holy,  like  the  deacon. 

Strawman. 

Behold  these  children;— see,— this  little  throng! 
Io  triumphe  may  for  them  be  sung! 
How  was  it  possible— how  practicable—; 
The  words  of  truth  are  strong,  inexorable;— 
He  has  no  hearing  whom  they  cannot  move. 
See,— every  one  of  them's  a  child  of  Love—! 

[Stops  in  confusion. 
That  is— you  understand— I  would  have  said—! 

Miss  Jay. 

[Fanning  herself  with  her  handkerchief] 
This  is  a  very  mystical  oration! 


418  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  n 

Falk. 

There  you  yourself  provide  the  demonstration, — 

A  good  old  Norse  one,  sound,  true-born,  home-bred. 

You  draw  distinction  between  wedded  pledges 

And  those  of  Love:   your  Logic's  without  flaw. 

They  are  distinguished  just  as  roast  from  raw, 

As  hothouse  bloom  from  wilding  of  the  hedges! 

Love  is  with  us  a  science  and  an  art; 

It  long  since  ceased  to  animate  the  heart. 

Love  is  with  us  a  trade,  a  special  line 

Of  business,  with  its  union,  code  and  sign; 

It  is  a  guild  of  married  folks  and  plighted, 

Past-masters  with  apprentices  united; 

For  they  cohere  compact  as  jelly-fishes, 

A  singing-club  their  single  want  and  wish  is — 


And  a  gazette ! 


GULDSTAD. 


Falk. 


A  good  suggestion,  yes! 
We  too  must  have  our  organ  in  the  press, 
Like  ladies,  athletes,  boys,  and  devotees. 
Don't  ask  the  price  at  present,  if  you  please. 
There  I'll  parade  each  amatory  fetter 
That  John  and  Thomas  to  our  town  unites, 
There  publish  every  pink  and  perfumed  letter 
That  William  to  his  tender  Jane  indites; 
There  you  shall  read,  among  "Distressing  Scenes  "- 
Instead  of  murders  and  burnt  crinolines, 
The  broken  matches  that  the  week's  afforded; 
There  under  "goods  for  sale"  you'll  find  what  fin 
Will  furnish  cast-off  rings  on  easy  terms; 
There  double,  treble  births  will  be  recorded; 


act  ii]  LOVE'S   COMEDY 


419 


No  wedding,  but  our  rallying  rub-a-dub 
Shall  drum  to  the  performance  all  the  club; 
No  suit  rejected,  but  we'll  set  it  down, 
In  letters  large,  with  other  news  of  weight 
Thus:    "Amor-Moloch,  we  regret  to  state, 
Has  claimed  another  victim  in  our  town." 
You'll  see,  we'll  catch  subscribers:   once  in  sight 
Of  the  propitious  season  when  they  bite, 
By  way  of  throwing  them  the  bait  they'll  brook 
I'll  stick  a  nice  young  man  upon  my  hook. 
Yes,  you  will  see  me  battle  for  our  cause, 
With  tiger's,  nay  with  editorial,  claws 
Rending  them — 

Guldstad. 
And  the  paper's  name  will  be —  ? 

Falk. 
Amor's  Norse  Chronicle  of  Archery. 

Stiver. 
[Going  nearer.] 
You're  not  in  earnest,  you  will  never  stake 
Your  name  and  fame  for  such  a  fancy's  sake! 

Falk. 
I'm  in  grim  earnest.    We  are  often  told 
Men  cannot  live  on  love;   I'll  show  that  this 
Is  an  untenable  hypothesis; 
For  Ix)ve  will  prove  to  be  a  mine  of  gold : 
Particularly  if  Miss  Jay,  perhaps, 
Will  Mr.  Strawman's  "Life's  Romance"  unfold, 
As  appetising  feuilleton,  in  scraps. 


420  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  n 

Strawman. 
[In  terror.] 

Merciful   heaven!     My   "life's   romance"!     What, 

what! 
When  was  my  life  romantic,  if  you  please  ? 


I  never  said  so. 


Miss  Jay. 

Stiver. 
Witness  disagrees. 

Strawman. 

That  I  have  ever  swerved  a  single  jot 
From  social  prescript, — is  a  monstrous  lie. 

Falk. 
Good. 

[Clapping  Stiver  on  the  shoulder. 
Here's  a  friend  who  will  not  be  put  by. 
We'll  start  with  Stiver's  lyric  ecstasies. 

Stiver. 
[After  a  glance  of  horror  at  Strawman.] 

Are  you  quite  mad!     Nay  then  I  must  be  heard! 
You  dare  accuse  me  for  a  poet — 

Miss  Jay. 

How—! 

Falk. 
Your  office  has  averred  it  anyhow. 


act  ii]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  421 

Stiver. 
[In  towering  anger.] 
Sir,  by  our  office  nothing  is  averred. 

Falk. 
Well,  leave  me  then,  you  also:   I  have  by  me 
One  comrade  yet  whose  loyalty  will  last. 
"A  true  heart's  story"  Lind  will  not  deny  me, 
Whose  troth's  too  tender  for  the  ocean  blast, 
Who  for  his  mistress  makes  surrender  of 
His  fellow-men— pure  quintessence  of  Love! 

Mrs.  Halm. 
My  patience,  Mr.  Falk,  is  now  worn  out. 
The  same  abode  no  longer  can  receive  us: — 
I  beg  of  you  this  very  day  to  leave  us— 

Falk. 
[With  a  bow  as  Mrs.  Halm  and  the  company  witftdraw.] 
That  this  would  come  I  never  had  a  doubt! 

Strawman. 
Between  us  two  there's  battle  to  the  death; 
You've  slandered  me,  my  wife,  my  little  flock, 
From  Mollie  down  to  Millie,  in  one  breath. 
Crow  on,  crow  on — Emancipation's  cock, — 

[Goes  in,  followed  by  his  wife  and  children. 

Falk. 
And  go  you  on  observing  Peter's  faith 
To  Love  your  lord— who,  thanks  to  your  advice, 
Was  thrice  denied  before  the  cock  crew  thrice! 


422  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  ii 

Miss  Jay. 

[  Turning  faint .] 

Attend  me,  Stiver !  help  me  get  unlaced 

My  corset — this  way,  this  way — do  make  haste! 

Stiver. 
[To  Falk,  as  he  witlidraws  with  Miss  Jay  on  his  arm.] 
I  here  renounce  your  friendship. 

Lind. 

I  likewise. 

Falk. 
[Seriously.] 
You  too,  my  Lind  ? 

Lind. 
Farewell. 

Falk. 

You  were  my  nearest  one — 

Lind. 
No  help,  it  is  the  pleasure  of  my  dearest  one. 

[He  goes  in:   Svanhild  has  remained  standing 
on  the  verandah  steps. 

Falk. 

So,  now  I've  made  a  clearance,  have  free  course 
In  all  directions! 

Svanhild. 
Falk,  one  word  with  you! 


act  ii]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  423 

Falk. 

[Pointing  politely  to  the  house.] 

That  way,  Miss  Halm;— that  way,  with  all  the  force 
Of  aunts  and  inmates,  Mrs.  Halm  withdrew. 

Svanhild. 

[Nearer  to  him.] 

Let  them  withdraw;   their  ways  and  mine  divide; 
I  will  not  swell  the  number  of  their  band. 

Falk. 
You'll  stay  ? 

Svanhild. 

If  you  make  war  on  lies,  I  stand 
A  trusty  armour-bearer  by  your  side. 

Falk. 
You,  Svanhild,  you  who — 

Svanhild. 

I,  who — yesterday — ?   \ 
Were  you  yourself,  Falk,  yesterday  the  same  ? 
You  bade  me  be  a  sallow,  for  your  play. 

Falk. 

And  a  sweet  sallow  sang  me  into  shame. 
No,  you  are  right;  I  was  a  child  to  ask; 
But  you  have  fired  me  to  a  nobler  task. 
Right  in  the  midst  of  men  the  Church  is  founded 


424  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  ii 

Where  Truth's  appealing  clarion  must  be  sounded 
We  are  not  called,  like  demigods,  to  gaze  on 
The  battle  from  the  far-off  mountain's  crest, 
But  in  our  hearts  to  bear  our  fiery  blazon, 
An  Olaf's  cross  upon  a  mailed  breast, — 
To  look  afar  across  the  fields  of  flight, 
Tho'  pent  within  the  mazes  of  its  might, — 
Beyond  the  mirk  descry  one  glimmer  still 
Of  glory — that's  the  Call  we  must  fulfil. 

Svanhild. 

And  you'll  fulfil  it  when  you  break  from  men, 
Stand  free,  alone, — 

Falk. 

Did  I  frequent  them  then? 
And  there  lies  duty.    No,  that  time's  gone  by, — 
My  solitary  compact  with  the  sky. 
My  four- wall-chamber  poetry  is  done; 
My  verse  shall  live  in  forest  and  in  field, 
I'll  fight  under  the  splendour  of  the  sun; — 
I  or  the  Lie — one  of  us  two  must  yield! 

Svanhild. 

Then  forth  with  God  from  Verse  to  Derringdoe! 
I  did  you  wrong:   you  have  a  feeling  heart; 
Forgive  me, — and  as  good  friends  let  us  part — 

Falk. 

Nay,  in  my  future  there  is  room  for  two! 
We  part  not.     Svanhild,  if  you  dare  decide, 
We'll  battle  on  together  side  by  side. 


act  ii]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  425 

SVANHILD. 

We  battle? 

Falk. 

See,  I  have  no  friend,  no  mate, 
By  all  abandoned,  I  make  war  on  all: 
At  me  they  aim  the  piercing  shafts  of  hate; 
Say,  do  you  dare  with  me  to  stand  or  fall  ? 
Henceforth  along  the  beaten  walks  I'll  move 
Heedful  of  each  constraining  etiquette; 
Spread,  like  the  rest  of  men,  my  board,  and  set 
The  ring  upon  the  finger  of  my  love! 

[Takes  a  ring  from  his  finger  and  holds  it  up. 

SVANHILD. 

[In  breathless  suspense.] 
You  mean    that  ? 

Falk. 

Yes,  by  us  the  world  shall  see, 
Love  has  an  everlasting  energy, 
That  suffers  not  its  splendour  to  take  hurt 
From  the  day's  dust,  the  common  highway's  dirt. 
f     Last  night  I  showed  you  the  ideal  flame, 
Beaconing  from  a  dizzy  mountain's  brow. 
You  shuddered,  for  you  were  a  woman, — now 
I  show  you  woman's  veritable  aim; — 
A  soul  like  yours,  what  it  has  vowed,  will  keep. 
You  see  the  abyss  before  you.— Svanhild,  leap! 

SVANHILD. 

[Almost  inandibly.] 
If  we  should  fail — ! 


426  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  n 

Falk. 
[Exulting.] 

No,  in  your  eyes  I  see 
A  gleam  that  surely  prophesies  our  winning! 

Svanhild. 

Then  take  me  as  I  am,  take  all  of  me! 

Now  buds  the  young  leaf;    now  my  spring's  begin- 
ning! 
[She  flings  herself  boldly  into  his  arms  as  the 
curtain  falls. 


ACT  THIRD 

Evening.  Bright  moonlig Jit.  Coloured  lanterns  are  hung 
about  the  trees.  In  tlie  background  are  covered  tables 
with  bottles,  glasses,  biscuits,  etc.  From  the  house, 
which  is  lighted  up  from  top  to  bottom,  subdued 
music  and  singing  are  heard  during  the  following 
scene.  Svanhild  stands  on  the  verandah.  Falk 
comes  from  the  rigfit  with  some  books  and  a  portfolio 
under  his  arm.  The  F orter  follows  with  a  port- 
manteau and  a  knapsack. 

Falk. 

That's  all,  then  ? 

Porter. 

Yes,  sir,  all  is  in  the  pack, 
But  just  a  satchel,  and  the  paletot. 

Falk. 

Good;   when  I  go,  I'll  take  them  on  my  back. 
Now  off.    See,  this  is  the  portfolio. 


It's  locked,  I  see. 


Porter. 


Falk. 

Locked,  Peter. 
427 


428  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  in 

Porter. 


Falk. 
Make  haste  and  burn  it. 


Good,  sir. 

Pray, 


Porter. 

Burn  it? 

Falk. 

Yes,  to  ash — 
[Smiling. 

With  every  draft  upon  poetic  cash; 

As  for  the  books,  you're  welcome  to  them. 

Porter. 

Nay, 
Such  payment  is  above  a  poor  man's  earning. 
But,  sir,  I'm  thinking,  if  you  can  bestow 
Your  books,  you  must  have  done  with  all  your 
learning  ? 

Falk. 

Whatever  can  be  learnt  from  books  I  know, 
And  rather  more. 

Porter. 

More  ?     Nay,  that's  hard,  I  doubt! 

Falk. 

Well,  now  be  off;    the  carriers  wait  without. 
Just  help  them  load  the  barrow  ere  you  go. 

[The  Porter  goes  out  to  the  left. 


act  in]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  420 

Falk. 

[Approaching  Svanhild,  who  comes  to  meet  him.] 

One  moment's  ours,  my  Svanhild,  in  the  light 

Of  God  and  of  the  lustrous  summer  night. 

How  the  stars  glitter  thro'  the  leafage,  see, 

Like  bright  fruit  hanging  on  the  great  world-tree. 

Now  slavery's  last  manacle  I  slip, 

Now  for  the  last  time  feel  the  wealing  whip; 

Like  Israel  at  the  Passover  I  stand, 

Loins  girded  for  the  desert,  staff  in  hand. 

Dull  generation,  from  whose  sight  is  hid 

The  Promised  Land  beyond  that  desert  flight, 

Thrall  tricked  with  knighthood,  never  the  more 

knight, 
Tomb  thyself  kinglike  in  the  Pyramid, — 
I  cross  the  barren  desert  to  be  free. 
My  ship  strides  on  despite  an  ebbing  sea; 
But  there  the  Legion  Lie  shall  find  its  doom, 
And  glut  one  deep,  dark,  hollow-vaulted  tomb. 

[A  short  pause;  he  looks  at  Iter  and  takes  her  hand. 
You  are  so  still !  ' 

Svanhild. 

So  happy!    Suffer  me, 
O  suffer  me  in  silence  still  to  dream. 
Speak  you  for  me;    my  budding  thoughts,  grown 

strong, 
One  after  one  will  burgeon  into  song, 
Like  lilies  in  the  bosom  of  the  stream. 

Falk. 
O  say  it  once  again,  in  truth's  pure  tone 
Beyond  the  fear  of  doubt,  that  thou  art  mine! 
O  say  it,  Svanhild,  say — 


430  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  in 

SVANHILD. 

[Throwing  herself  on  his  neck.] 

Yes,  I  am  thine! 

Falk. 
Thou  singing-bird  God  sent  me  for  my  own! 

Svanhild. 
V 

Homeless  within  my  mother's  house  I  dwelt, 
Lonely  in  all  I  thought,  in  all  I  felt, 
A  guest  unbidden  at  the  feast  of  mirth, — 
Accounted  nothing — less  than  nothing — worth. 
Then  you  appeared !    For  the  first  time  I  heard 
My  own  thought  uttered  in  another's  word; 
To  my  lame  visions  you  gave  wings  and  feet — 
You  young  unmasker  of  the  Obsolete! 
Half  with  your  caustic  keenness  you  alarmed  me, 
Half  with  your  radiant  eloquence  you  charmed  me, 
As  sea-girt  forests  summon  with  their  spell 
The  sea  their  flinty  beaches  still  repel. 
Now  I  have  read  the  bottom  of  your  soul, 
Now  you  have  won  me,  undivided,  whole; 
Dear  forest,  where  my  tossing  billows  beat, 
■r       My  tide's  at  flood  and  never  will  retreat! 

Falk. 

And  I  thank  God  that  in  the  bath  of  Pain 

He  purged  my  love.    What  strong  compulsion  drew 

Me  on  I  knew  not,  till  I  saw  in  you 

The  treasure  I  had  blindly  sought  in  vain. 

I  praise  Him,  who  our  love  has  lifted  thus 

To  noble  rank  by  sorrow, — licensed  us 


act  in]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  431 

To  a  triumphal  progress,  bade  us  sweep 
Thro'  fen  and  forest  to  our  castle-keep, 
A  noble  pair,  astride  on  Pegasus! 

Svanhild. 
[Pointing  to  the  house.] 

The  whole  house,  see,  is  making  feast  to-night. 
There,  in  their  honour,  every  room's  alight, 
There  cheerful  talk  and  joyous  song  ring  out; 
On  the  highroad  no  passer-by  will  doubt 
That  men  are  happy  where  they  are  so  gay. 

[With  compassion. 
Poor  sister!— happy  in  the  great  world's  way! 

Fal£. 
"Poor"  sister,  say  you  ? 

Svanhild. 

Has  she  not  divided 
With  kith  and  kin  the  treasure  of  her  soul, 
Her  capital  to  fifty  hands  confided, 
So  that  not  one  is  debtor  for  the  whole  ? 
From  no  one  has  she  all   things  to  receive, 
For  no  one  has  she  utterly  to  live. 

0  beside   m  y   wealth  hers  is  little  worth; 

1  have  but  one  possession  upon  earth. 
My  heart  was  lordless  when  with  trumpet  blare 
And  multitudinous  song  you  came,  its  king, 
The  banners  of  my  thought  your  ensign  bear, 
You  fill  my  soul  with  glory,  like  the  spring. 
Yes,  I  must  needs  thank  God,  when  it  is  past, 
That  I  was  lonely  till  I  found  out  thee,— 
That  I  lay  dead  until  the  trumpet  blast' 
Waken'd  me  from  the  world's  frivolity. 


t 


432  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  in 

Falk. 

Yes  we,  who  have  no  friends  on  earth,  we  twain 
Own  the  true  wealth,  the  golden  fortune, — we 
Who  stand  without,  beside  the  starlit  sea, 
And  watch  the  indoor  revel  thro'  the  pane. 
Let  the  lamp  glitter  and  the  song  resound, 
Let  the  dance  madly  eddy  round  and  round; — 
Look  up,  my  Svanhild,  into  yon  deep  blue, — 
There  glitter  little  lamps  in  thousands,  too — 

Svanhild. 

And  hark,  beloved,  thro'  the  limes  there  floats 
This  balmy  eve  a  chorus  of  sweet  notes — 

Falk. 
It  is  for  us  that  fretted  vault's  aglow — 

Svanhild. 
It  is  for  us  the  vale  is  loud  below! 

Falk. 

I  feel  myself  like  God's  lost  prodigal; 
I  left  Him  for  the  world's  delusive  charms. 
With  mild  reproof  He  wooed  me  to  His  arms; 
And  when  I  come,  He  lights  the  vaulted  hall, 
Prepares  a  banquet  for  the  son  restored, 
And  makes  His  noblest  creature  my  reward. 
From  this  time  forth  I'll  never  leave  that  Light, — 
But  stand  its  armed  defender  in  the  fight; 
Nothing  shall  part  us,  and  our  life  shall  prove 
A  song  of  glory  to  triumphant  love! 


apt  in]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  433 

SVANHILD. 

And  see  how  easy  triumph  is  for  two, 
When  he's  a  man — 

Falk. 

She,  woman  thro'  and  thro'; — 
It  is  impossible  for  such  to  fall! 

SVANHILD. 

Then  up,  and  to  the  war  with  want  and  sorrow; 
This  very  hour  I  will  declare  it  all! 

[Pointing  to  Falk's  ring  on  her  finger 

Falk. 
[Hastily.] 

No,  Svanhild,  not  to-night,  wait  till  to-morrow! 
To-night  we  gather  our  young  love's  red  rose; 
'Twere  sacrilege  to  smirch  it  with  the  prose 
Of  common  day. 

[TJie  door  into  the  garden-room  opens. 
Your  mother's  coming!    Hide! 
No  eye  this  niglt  shall  see  thee  as  my  bride! 

[They  go  out  among  tfie  trees  by  the  summer- 
house.  Mrs.  Halm  and  Guldstad  come  out 
on  the  balcony. 

Mrs.  Halm. 
He's  really  going  ? 

Guldstad. 

Seems  so,  I  admit. 


434  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  hi 

Stiver. 
[Coming.] 
He's  going,  madam ! 

Mrs.  Halm. 

We're  aware  of  it! 

Stiver. 

A  most  unfortunate  punctilio. 
He'll  keep  his  word;   his  stubbornness  I  know. 
In  the  Gazette  he'll  put  us  all  by  name; 
My  love  will  figure  under  leaded  headings, 
With  jilts,  and  twins,  and  countermanded  wed- 
dings. 
Listen;   I  tell  you,  if  it  weren't  for  shame, 
I  would  propose  an  armistice,  a  truce — 

Mrs.  Halm. 

You  think  he  would  be  willing  ? 

Stiver. 

I  deduce 
The  fact  from  certain  signs,  which  indicate 
That  his  tall  talk  about  his  Amor's  News 
Was  uttered  in  a  far  from  sober  state. 
One  proof  especially,  if  not  transcendent, 
Yet  tells  most  heavily  against  defendant: 
It  has  been  clearly  proved  that  after  dinner 
To  his  and  Lind's  joint  chamber  he  withdrew, 
And  there  displayed  such  singular  demeanour 
As  leaves  no  question — 


a< •••  "i]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  435 

GULDSTAD. 

[Sees  a  glimpse  of  Falk  and  Svanhild,  who  separate, 
Falk  going  to  tJie  background;  Svanhild  remains 
standing  hidden  by  the  summer- fiouse.] 

Hold,  we  have  the  clue! 
Madam,  one  word !— Falk  does  not  mean  to  go, 
Or  if  he  does,  he  means  it  as  a  friend. 

Stiver. 
How,  you  believe  then —  ? 

Mrs.  Halm. 

What  do  you  intend  ? 

Guldstad. 
With  the  least  possible  delay  I'll  show 
That  matters  move  precisely  as  you  would. 
Merely  a  word  in  private — 

Mrs.  Halm. 

Very  good. 
[They  go  together  into  the  garden  and  are  seen 
from  time  to  time  in  lively  conversation. 

Stiver. 

[Descending    into    the    garden  discovers   Falk,    who  is 
standing  by  tlie  water  and  gazing  over  it.] 
These  poets  are  mere  men  of  vengeance,  we 
State  servants  understand  diplomacy. 
I  need  to  labour  for  myself — 

[Seeing  Strawman,  who  enters  from  the  garden- 
room. 

Well  met! 


436  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  in 

Strawman. 
[On  the  verandah.] 

He's  really  leaving! 

[Going  down  to  Stiver. 

Ah,  my  dear  sir,  let 
Me  beg  you  just  a  moment  to  go  in 
And  hold  my  wife — 

Stiver. 

I — hold  her,  sir? 


Strawman. 


I  mean 


In  talk.     The  little  ones  and  we  are  so 
Unused  to  be  divided,  there  is  no 
Escaping — 

[His  wife  and  children  appear  in  the  door. 
Ha!   already  on  my  trail. 

Mrs.  Strawman. 
Where  are  you,  Strawman  ? 

Strawman. 

[Aside  to  Stiver.] 

Do  invent  some  tale, 
Something  amusing — something  to  beguile! 

Stiver. 

[Going  on  to  the  verandah.] 

Pray,  madam,  have  you  read  the  official  charge? 
A  masterpiece  of  literary  style. 

[Takes  a  book  from  his  pocket. 


act  in]  LOVE'S  COMEDY  437 

Which  I  shall  now  proceed  to  cite  at  large. 

[Ushers  her  politely  into  the  room,  and  follows 
himself.  Falk  comes  forward;  he  and  Straw- 
man  meet;  tliey  regard  one  another  a  moment 
in  silence. 


Well  ? 

Well? 


Strawman. 

Falk. 

Strawman. 
Falk! 


Falk. 
Pastor! 

Strawman. 

Are  you  less 
Intractable  than  when  we  parted  ? 

Falk 

Nay, 
I  go  my  own  inexorable  way — 

Strawman. 
Even  tho'  you  crush  another's  happiness  ? 

Falk. 
I  plant  the  flower  of  knowledge  in  its  place. 

[Smiling. 
If,  by  the  way,  you  have  not  ceased  to  think 
Of  the  Gazette — 


438  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  hi 

Strawman. 
Ah,  that  was  all  a  joke? 

Falk. 

Yes,  pluck  up  courage,  that  will  turn  to  smoke; 
I  break  the  ice  in  action,  not  in  ink. 

Strawman. 

But  even  though  you  spare  me,  sure  enough 
There's  one  who  won't  so  lightly  let  me  off; 
He  has  the  advantage,  and  he  won't  forego  it, 
That  lawyer's  clerk — and  'tis  to  you  I  owe  it; 
You  raked  the  ashes  of  our  faded  flames, 
And  you  may  take  your  oath  he  won't  be  still 
If  once  I  mutter  but  a  syllable 
Against  the  brazen  bluster  of  his  claims. 
These  civil-service  gentlemen,  they  say, 
Are  very  potent  in  the  press  to-day. 
A  trumpery  paragraph  can  lay  me  low, 
Once  printed  in  that  Samson-like  Gazette 
That  with  the  jaw  of  asses  fells  its  foe, 
And  runs  away  with  tackle  and  with  net, 
Especially  towards  the  quarter  day — 

Falk. 

[Acquiescing.] 
Ah,  were  there  scandal  in  the  case,  indeed — 

Strawman. 

[Despondently.] 

No  matter.    Read  its  columns  with  good  heed, 
You'll  see  me  offered  up  to  Vengeance. 


act  in]  LOVE'S  COMEDY  439 

Falk. 

[Whimsically.] 

Nay, 
To  retribution — well-earned  punishment. 
Thro'  all  our  life  there  runs  a  Nemesis, 
Which  may  delay,  but  never  will  relent, 
And  grants  to  none  exception  or  release. 
Who  wrongs  the  Ideal  ?    Straight  there  rushes  in 
The  Press,  its  guardian  with  the  Argus  eye, 
And  the  offender  suffers  for  his  sin. 

Strawman. 
But  in  the  name  of  heaven,  what  pledge  have  I 
Given  this  "Ideal"  that's  ever  on  your  tongue? 
I'm  married,  have  a  family,  twelve  young 
And  helpless  innocents  to  clothe  and  keep; 
I  have  my  daily  calls  on  every  side, 
Churches  remote  and  glebe  and  pasture  wide, 
( i  reat  herds  of  breeding  cattle,  ghostly  sheep — 
All  to  be  watched  and  cared  for,  dipt  and  fed, 
(J  rain  to  be  winnowed,  compost  to  be  spread; — 
Wanted  all  day  in  shippon  and  in  stall, 
What  time  have  /  to  serve  the  "Ideal"'  withal? 

Falk. 

Then  get  you  home  with  what  dispatch  you  may, 
Creep  snugly  in  before  the  winter-cold; 
Look,  in  young  Norway  dawns  at  last  the  day, 
Thousand  brave  hearts  are  in  its  ranks  enroll'd, 
Its  banners  in  the  morning  breezes  play! 

Strawman. 
And  if,  young  man,  I  were  to  take  my  way 
With  bag  and  baggage  home,  with  everything 


440  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  hi 

That  made  me  yesterday  a  little  king, 
Were  mine  the  only  volte  face  to-day? 
Think  you  I  carry  back  the  wealth  I  brought? 

[As  Falk  is  about  to  answer. 
Nay,  listen,  let  me  first  explain  my  thought. 

[Coming  nearer. 
Time  was  when  I  was  young,  like  you,  and  played 
Like  you,  the  unconquerable  Titan's  part; 
Year  after  year  I  toiled  and  moiled  for  bread, 
Which  hardens  a  man's  hand,  but  not  his  heart. 
For  northern  fells  my  lonely  home  surrounded, 
And  by  my  parish  bounds  my  world  was  bounded. 
My  home — Ah,  Falk,  I  wonder,  do  you  know 
What  home  is  ? 

Falk. 
[Curtly.] 
I  have  never  known. 

Strawman. 

Just  so. 
That  is  a  home,  where  five  may  dwell  with  ease, 
Tho'  two  would  be  a  crowd,  if  enemies. 
That  is  a  home,  where  all  your  thoughts  play  free 
As  boys  and  girls  about  their  father's  knee, 
Where  speech  no  sooner  touches  heart,  than  tongue 
Darts  back  an  answering  harmony  of  song; 
Where  you  may  grow  from  flax-haired  snowy-polled, 
And  not  a  soul  take  note  that  you  grow  old; 
Where  memories  grow  fairer  as  they  fade, 
Like  far  blue  peaks  beyond  the  forest  glade. 

Falk 
[With  constrained  sarcasm.] 
Come,  you  grow  warm — 


act  in]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  441 

Strawman. 

Where  you  but  jeered  and  flouted. 
So  utterly  unlike  God  made  us  two! 
I'm  bare  of  that  he  lavished  upon  you. 
But  I  have  won  the  game  where  you  were  routed. 
Seen  from  the  clouds,  full  many  a  wayside  grain 
Of  truth  seems  empty  chaff  and  husks.    You'd  soar 
To  heaven,  I  scarcely  reach  the  stable  door, 
One  bird's  an  eagle  born — 

Falk. 

And  one  a  hen. 

Strawman. 

Yes,  laugh  away,  and  say  it  be  so,  grant 
I  am  a  hen.    .There  clusters  to  my  cluck 
A  crowd  of  little  chickens, — which  you  want! 
And  I've  the  hen's  high  spirit  and  her  pluck, 
And  for  my  little  ones  forget  myself. 
You  think  me  dull,  I  know  it.    Possibly 
You  pass  a  harsher  judgment  yet,  decree 
Me  over  covetous  of  worldly  pelf. 
Good,  on  that  head  we  will  not  disagree. 

[Seizes  Falk's  arm  and  continues  in  a  low  tone 
but  with  gathering  vehemence. 
You're  right,  I'm  dull  and  dense  and  grasping,  yes; 
But  grasping  for  my  God-given  babes  and  wife, 
And  dense  from  struggling  blindly  for  bare  life, 
And  dull  from  sailing  seas  of  loneliness. 
Just  when  the  pinnace  of  my  youthful  dream 
Into  the  everlasting  deep  went  down* 
Another  started  from  the  ocean  stream 
Borne  with  a  fair  wind  onward  to  life's  crown. 


442  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  hi 

For  every  dream  that  vanished  in  the  wave, 

For  every  buoyant  plume  that  broke  asunder, 

God  sent  me  in  return  a  little  Wonder, 

And  gratefully  I  took  the  good  He  gave. 

For  them  I  strove,  for  them  amassed,  annexed, — 

For  them,  for  them,  explained  the  Holy  text: 

My  clustering  girls,  my  garden  of  delight! 

On  them  you've  poured  the  venom  of  your  spite! 

You've  proved,  with  all  the  cunning  of  the  schools, 

My  bliss  was  but  the  paradise  of  fools, 

That  all  I  took  for  earnest  was  a  jest; — 

Now  I  implore,  give  me  my  quiet  breast 

Again,  the  flawless  peace  of  mind  I  had — 

Falk. 
Prove,  in  a  word,  your  title  to  be  glad  ? 

Strawman. 

Yes,  in  my  path  you've  cast  the  stone  of  doubt, 
And  nobody  but  you  can  cast  it  out. 
Between  my  kin  and  me  you've  set  a  bar, — 
Remove  the  bar,  the  strangling  noose  undo — 

Falk. 

You  possibly  believe  I  keep  the  glue 
Of  lies  for  Happiness's  broken  jar? 

Strawman. 

I  do  believe,  the  faith  your  reasons  tore 
To  shreds,  your  reasons  may  again  restore; 
The  limb  that  you  have  shatter'd,  you  can  set; 
Reverse  your  judgment, — the  whole  truth  unfold, 
Restate  the  case — I'll  fly  my  banner  yet— 


act  in]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  443 

Falk. 
[Haughtily.] 
I. stamp  no  copper  Happiness  as  gold. 

Strawman. 
[Looking  fixedly  at  him.] 

Remember  then  that,  lately,  one  whose  scent 
For  truth  is  of  the  keenest  told  us  this: 

[With  uplifted  finger. 
"There  runs  through  all  our  life  a  Nemesis, 
Which  may  delay,  but  never  will  relent." 

[He  goes  towards  the  house. 

Stiver. 
Coming  out  with  glasses  on,  and  an  open  book  in  his 

hand.] 


Pastor,  you  must  come  flying  like  the  blast! 
Your  girls  are  sobbing — 

The  Children. 
[In  the  doorway.] 

Pa! 

Stiver. 

And  Madam  waiting! 
[Strawman  goes  in. 
This  lady  has  no  talent  for  debating. 

[Puts  the  book  and  glasses  in  his  pocket,  and 
approaches  Falk. 
Falk! 

Falk. 

Yes! 


444  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  in 

Stiver. 
I  hope  iyou've  changed  your  mind  at  last  ? 

Falk. 
Why  so  ? 

•  Stiver. 

For  obvious  reasons.    To  betray 
Communications  made  in  confidence, 
Is  conduct  utterly  without  defence. 
They  must  not  pass  the  lips. 

Falk. 

No,  I've  heard  say 
It  is  at  times  a  risky  game  to  play. 

Stiver. 
The  very  devil! 

Falk. 
Only  for  the  great. 

Stiver. 

[Zealously.] 

No,  no,  for  all  us  servants  of  the  state. 
Only  imagine  how  my  future  chances 
Would  dwindle,  if  the  governor  once  knew 
I  keep  a  Pegasus  that  neighs  and  prances 
In  office  hours — and  such  an  office,  too! 
From  first  to  last,  you  know,  in  our  profession, 
The  winged  horse  is  viewed  with  reprobation: 
But  worst  of  all  would  be,  if  it  got  wind 
That  I  against  our  primal  law  had  sinn'd 
By  bringing  secret  matters  to  the  light — 


iCTin]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  445 

Falk. 
That's  penal,  is  it — such  an  oversight  ? 

Stiver. 

[Mysteriously.] 

It  can  a  servant  of  the  state  compel 
To  beg  for  his  dismissal  out  of  hand. 
On  us  officials  lies  a  strict  command, 
Even  by  the  hearth  to  be  inscrutable. 

Falk. 

O  those  despotical  authorities, 

Muzzling  the— clerk  that  treadeth  out  the  grain ! 

Stiver. 

[Shrugging  his  shoulders.] 

It  is  the  law;  to  murmur  is  in  vain. 
Moreover,  at  a  moment  such  as  this, 
When  salary  revision  is  in  train, 
It  is  not  well  to  advertise  one's  views 
Of  office  time's  true  function  and  right  use. 
.    That's  why  I  beg  you  to  be  silent;   look, 
A  word  may  forfeit  my — 

.   Falk. 

Portfolio  ? 

Stiver. 

Officially  it's  called  a  transcript  book; 
A  protocol's  the  clasp  upon  the  veil  of  snow 
That  shrouds  the  modest  breast  of  the  Bureau. 
What  lies  beneath,  you  must  not  seek  to  know. 


446  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  hi 

Falk. 

And  yet  I  only  spoke  at  your  desire; 
You  hinted  at  your  literary  crop. 

Stiver. 

How  should  I  guess  he'd  grovel  in  the  mire 
So  deep,  this  parson  perch'd  on  fortune's  top, 
A  man  with  snug  appointments,  children,  wife, 
.  And  money  to  defy  the  ills  of  life  ? 
If  such  a  man  prove  such  a  Philistine, 
What  shall  of  us  poor  copyists  be  said  ? 
Of  me,  who  drive  the  quill  and  rule  the  line, 
A  man  engaged  and  shortly  to  be  wed, 
With  family  in  prospect — and  so  forth  ? 

[More  vehemently, 
O,  if  I  only  had  a  well-lined  berth, 
I'd  bind  the  armour'd  helmet  on  my  head, 
And  cry  defiance  to  united  earth! 
And  were  I  only  unengaged  like  you, 
Trust  me,  I'd  break  a  road  athwart  the  snow 
Of  Prose,  and  carry  the  Ideal  through! 

Falk. 

To  work  then,  man ! 

Stiver. 
How? 


Falk. 

You  may  still  do  so 
Let  the  world's  prudish  owl  unheeded  flutter  by; 
Freedom  converts  the  grub  into  a  butterfly! 


act  in]  LOVE'S  COMEDY  447 

Stiver. 
[Stepping  back.] 
You  mean,  to  break  the  engagement —  ? 

Falk. 

That's  my  mind; — 
The  fruit  is  gone,  why  keep  the  empty  rind  ? 

Stiver. 

Such  a  proposal's  for  a  green  young  shoot, 

Not  for  a  man  of  judgment  and  repute. 

I  heed  not  what  King  Christian  in  his  time 

(The  Fifth)  laid  down  about  engagements  broken- 

off; 
For  that  relationship  is  nowhere  spoken  of 
In  any  rubric  of  the  code  of  crime. 
The  act  would  not  be  criminal  in  name, 
It  would  in  no  way  violate  the  laws — 

Falk. 

Why  there,  you  see  then ! 

Stiver. 
[Firmly, 1 

Yes,  but  all  the  same, — 
I  must  reject  all  pleas  in  such  a  cause. 
Staunch  comrades  we  have  been  in  times  of  dearth; 
Of  life's  disport  she  asks  but  little  share, 
And  I'm  a  homely  fellow,  long  aware 
God  made  me  for  the  ledger  and  the  hearth. 
Let  others  emulate  the  eagle's  flight, 
Life  in  the  lowly  plains  may  be  as  bright. 


448  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  in 

What  does  his  Excellency  Goethe  say 
About  the  white  and  shining  milky  way  ? 
Man  may  not  there  the  milk  of  fortune  skim, 
Nor  is  the  butter  of  it  meant  for  him. 

Falk. 

Why,  even  were  fortune-churning  our  life's  goal, 
The  labour  must  be  guided  by  the  soul; — 
Be  citizens  of  the  time  that  is — but  then 
Make,the  time  worthy  of  the  citizen. 
In  homely  things  lurks  beauty,  without  doubt, 
But  watchful  eye  and  brain  must  draw  it  out. 
Not  every  man  who  loves  the  soil  he  turns 
May  therefore  claim  to  be  another  Burns. 

Stiver. 

Then  let  us  each  our  proper  path  pursue, 
And  part  in  peace;   we  shall  not  hamper  you; 
We  keep  the  road,  you  hover  in  the  sky, 
There  where  we  too  once  floated,  she  and  I. 
But  work,  not  song,  provides  our  daily  bread, 
And  when  a  man's  alive,  his  music's  dead. 
A  young  man's  life's  a  lawsuit,  and  the  most 
Superfluous  litigation  in  existence: 
Withdraw,  make  terms,  abandon  all  resistance: 
Plead  where  and  how  you  will,  your  suit  is  lost. 

Falk. 

[Bold  and  confident,  with  a  glance  at  the  summer-house] 

Nay,  tho'  I  took  it  to  the  highest  place, — 
Judgment,  I  know,  would  be  reversed  by  grace! 
I  know  two  hearts  can  live  a  life  complete, 


act  in]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  449 

With  hope  still  ardent,  and  with  faith  still  sweet; 
You  preach  the  wretched  gospel  of  the  hour, 
That  the  Ideal  is  secondary! 

Stiver. 

No! 
It's  primary:  appointed,  like  the  flower, 
To  generate  the  fruit,  and  then  to  go. 

[Indoors,  Miss  Jay  plays  and  sings:  "In  the 
Gloaming."  Stiver  stands  listening  in  silent 
emotion. 

With  the  same  melody  she  calls  me  yet 

Which  thrilled  me  to  the  heart  when  first  we  met. 

[Lays  his  hand  on  Falk's  arm  atbd  gazes  in- 
tently at  him. 

Oft  as  she  wakens  those  pathetic  notes, 
From  the  white  keys  reverberating  floats 
An  echo  of  the  "yes"  that  made  her  mine. 
And  when  our  passions  shall  one  day  decline, 
To  live  again  as  friendship,  to  the  last 
That  song  shall  link  that  present  to  this  past. 
i    And  what  tho'  at  the  desk  my  back  grow  round, 
And  my  day's  work  a  battle  for  mere  bread, 
Yet  joy  will  lead  me  homeward,  where  the  dead 
Enchantment  will  be  born  again  in  sound. 
If  one  poor  bit  of  evening  we  can  claim,  / 

I  shall  come  off  undamaged  from  the  game! 

[He  goes  into  tfie  house.  Falk  turns  towards 
the  summer-house.  Svanhild  comes  out,  she 
is  pale  and  agitated.  Tliey  gaze  at  each  other 
in  silence  a  moment,  and  fling  themselves 
impetuously  into  each  otfier's  arms. 


450  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  m 

Falk. 

O,  Svanhild,  let  us  battle  side  by  side! 

Thou  fresh  glad  blossom  flowering  by  the  tomb, — 

See  what  the  life  is  that  they  call  youth's  bloom! 

There's  coffin-stench  of  bridegroom  and  of  bride; 

There's  coffin-stench  wherever  two  go  by 

At  the  street  corner,  smiling  outwardly, 

With  falsehood's  reeking  sepulchre  beneath, 

And  in  their  blood  the  apathy  of  death. 

And  this  they  think  is  living!    Heaven  and  earth, 

Is  such  a  load  so  many  antics  worth  ? 

For  such  an  end  to  haul  up  babes  in  shoals, 

To  pamper  them  with  honesty  and  reason, 

To  feed  them  fat  with  faith  one  sorry  season, 

For  service,  after  killing-day,  as  souls  ? 

Svanhild. 
Falk,  let  us  travel! 

Falk.  x/ 

Travel  ?    Whither,  then  ? 
Is  not  the  whole  world  everywhere  the  same  ? 
And  does  not  Truth's  own  mirror  in  its  frame 
Lie  equally  to  all  the  sons  of  men  ? 
No,  we  will  stay  and  watch  the  merry  game, 
The  conjurer's  trick,  the  tragi-comedy 
Of  liars  that  are  dupes  of  their  own  lie; 
Stiver  and  Lind,  the  Parson  and  his  dame, 
See  them, — prize  oxen  harness'd  to  love's  yoke, 
And  yet  at  bottom  very  decent  folk! 
Each  wears  for  others  and  himself  a  mask, 
Yet  one  too  innocent  to  take  to  task; 
Each  one,  a  stranded  sailor  on  a  wreck, 
Counts  himself  happy  as  the  gods  in  heaven; 


act  in]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  451 

Each  his  own  hand  from  Paradise  has  driven, 
Then,  splash!  into  the  sulphur  to  the  neck! 
But  none  has  any  inkling  where  he  lies, 
Each  thinks  himself  a  knight  of  Paradise, 
And  each  sits  smiling  between  howl  and  howl; 
And  if  the  Fiend  come  by  with  jeer  and  growl, 
With   horns,  and  hoofs,  and  things  yet  more  ab- 
horred,— 
Then  each  man  jogs  the  neighbour  at  his  jowl: 
"  Off  with  your  hat,  man !    See,  there  goes  the  Lord ! " 

Svanhild. 
[After  a  brief  thoughtful  silence. J 

How  marvellous  a  love  my  steps  has  led 

To  this  sweet  trysting  place !    My  life  that  sped 

In  frolic  and  fantastic  visions  gay, 

Henceforth  shall  grow  one  ceaseless  working  day! 

O  God!  I  wandered  groping, — all  was  dim: 

Thou  gavest  me  light— and  I  discovered    him! 

[Gazing  at  Falk  in  love  and  wonder. 
Whence  is  that  strength  of  thine,  thou  mighty  tree 
That  stand'st  unshaken  in  the  wind-wrecked  wood, 
That  stand'st  alone,  and  yet  canst  shelter  me — ? 

Falk. 
God's  truth,  my  Svanhild; — that  gives  fortitude. 

Svanhild. 
[With  a  shy  glance  towards  the  house.] 

They  came  like  tempters,  evilly  inclined, 
Each  spokesman  for  his  half  of  humankind, 
One  asking:    How  can  true  love  reach  its  goal 
When  riches'  leaden  weight  subdues  the  soul? 


452  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  in 

The  other  asking:    How  can  true  love  speed 
When  life's  a  battle  to  the  death  with  Need  ? 

0  horrible! — to  bid  the  world  receive 
That  teaching  as  the  truth,  and  yet  to  live! 

Falk. 
How  if  'twere  meant  for  us  ? 

Svanhild. 

For  us  ? — What,  then  ? 
Can  outward  faith  control  the  wills  of  men  ? 

1  have  already  said:    if  thou 'It  stand  fast, 
I'll  dare  and  suffer  by  thee  to  the  last. 
How  light  to  listen  to  the  gospel's  voice, 

To  leave  one's  home  behind,  to  weep,  rejoice, 
And  take  with  God  the  husband  of  one's  choice! 

Falk. 
[Embracing  her.] 

Come  then,  and  blow  thy  worst,  thou  winter  weather! 
We  stand  unshaken,  for  we  stand  together! 

[Mrs.  Halm  and  Guldstad  come  in  from  tlie 
right  in  the  background. 

Guldstad. 
[Aside.] 
Observe ! 

[Falk  and  Svanhild  remain  standing  by  the 
summer-lwuse. 

Mrs.  Halm. 

[Surprised.] 
Together! 


*CTiii]  LOVES   COMEDY  453 

GULDSTAD. 

Do  you  doubt  it  now  ? 

Mrs.  Halm. 
This  is  most  singular. 

GULDSTAD. 

O,  I've  noted  how 
His  work  of  late  absorb 'd  his  interest. 

Mrs.  Halm. 

[To  lierself.] 
Who  would  have  fancied  Svanhild  was  so  sly  ? 

[Vivaciously  to  Guldstad. 
But  no — I  can't  think. 

Guldstad. 

Put  it  to  the  test. 

Mrs.  Halm. 
Now,  on  the  spot  ? 

Guldstad. 

Yes,  and  decisively! 

Mrs.  Halm. 

[Giving  him  lier  Juind.] 
God's  blessing  with  you! 

Guldstad. 
[Gravely.] 

Thanks,  it  may  bestead. 
[Comes  to  the  front. 


454  LOVE'S   COMEDY  iact  hi 

Mrs.  Halm. 

[Looking  back  as  she  goes  towards  the  house.] 

Whichever  way  it  goes,  my  child  is  sped. 

[Goes  in. 

Guldstad. 

[Approaching  Falk.] 

It's  late,  I  think  ? 

Falk. 

Ten  minutes  and  I  go. 

Guldstad. 
Sufficient  for  my  purpose. 

Svanhild. 

[Going.] 

Farewell. 

Guldstad. 


Remain. 


No, 


Svanhild. 
Shall  I? 

Guldstad. 

<  Until  you've  answered  me. 
It's  time  we  squared  accounts.    It's  time  we  three 
Talked  out  for  once  together  from  the  heart. 

Falk. 

[Taken  aback.] 
We  three  ? 


act  in]  LOVE'S  COMEDY  456 

GULDSTAD. 

Yes, — all  disguises  flung  apart. 

Falk. 

[Suppressing  a  smile.] 
O,  at  your  service. 

Guldstad. 

Very  good,  then  hear. 
We've  been  acquainted  now  for  half  a  year; 
We've  wrangled — 

Falk. 

Yes. 

Guldstad. 

We've  been  in  constant  feud; 
We've  changed  hard  blows  enough.     You  fought— 

alone — 
For  a  sublime  ideal;   I  as  one 
Among  the  money-grubbing  multitude. 
And  yet  it  seemed  as  if  a  chord  united 
Us  two,  as  if  a  thousand  thoughts  that  lay 
Deep  in  my  own  youth's  memory  benighted 
Had  started  at  your  bidding  into  day. 
Yes,  I  amaze  you.     But  this  hair  grey-sprinkled 
Once  fluttered  brown  in  spring-time,  and  this  brow, 
Which  daily  occupation  moistens  now 
With  sweat  of  labour,  was  not  always  wrinkled. 
Enough;   I  am  a  man  of  business,  hence — 

Falk. 
[With  gentle  sarcasm.] 
You  are  the  type  of  practical  good  sense. 


456  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  hi 

GULDSTAD. 

And  you  are  hope's  own  singer  young  and  fain. 

[Stepping  between  tJiem. 
Just  therefore,  Falk  and  Svanhild,  I  am  here. 
Now  let  us  talk,  then;   for  the  hour  is  near 
Which  brings  good  hap  or  sorrow  in  its  train. 

Falk. 

[In  suspense.] 
Speak, then! 

Guldstad. 

[Smiling.] 

My  ground  is,  as  I  said  last  night, 
A  kind  of  poetry — 

Falk. 

In  practice. 

Guldstad. 

[Nodding  slowly.] 

Right! 

Falk. 
And  if  one  asked  the  source  from  which  you  drew —  ? 

Guldstad. 

[Glancing  a  moment  at  Svanhild,  and  then  turning  again 
to  Falk.] 

A  common  source  discovered  by  us  two. 

Svanhild. 
Now  I  must  go. 


act  in]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  457 

GULDSTAD. 

No,  wait  till  I  conclude. 
I  should  not  ask  so  much  of  others.     You, 
Svanhild,  I've  learnt  to  fathom  thro'  and  thro'; 
You  are  too  sensible  to  play  the  prude. 
I  watched  expand,  unfold,  your  little  life; 
A  perfect  woman  I  divined  within  you, 
But  long  I  only  saw  a  daughter  in  you; — 
Now  I  ask  of  you — will  you  be  my  wife  ? 

[Svanhild  draws  back  in  embarrassment. 

Falk. 

[Seizing  his  arm.] 
Hold! 

GULDSTAD. 

Patience;   she  must  answer.    Put  your  own 
Question;— then  her  decision  will  be  free. 

Falk. 
I — do  you  say  ? 

Guldstad. 
[Looking  steadily  at  him.] 

The  happiness  of  three 
Lives  is  at  stake  to-day, — not  mine  alone. 
Don't  fancy  it  concerns  you  less  than  me; 
For  tho'  base  matter  is  my  chosen  sphere, 
Yet  nature  made  me  something  of  a  seer. 
Yes,  Falk,  you  love  her.     Gladly,  I  confess, 
I  saw  your  young  love  bursting  into  flower. 
But  this  young  passion,  with  its  lawless  power, 
May  be  the  ruin  of  her  happiness. 


458  LOVE'S   COMEDY  lAct  hi 

Falk. 
[Firing  up.] 
You  have  the  face  to  say  so  ? 

Guldstad. 
[Quietly.] 


Say  now  you  won  her- 


Years  give  right. 


Falk. 
[Defiantly.] 

And  what  then  ? 

Guldstad. 

[Slowly  and  emphatically.] 

Yes,  say 
She  ventured  in  one  bottom  to  embark 
Her   all,  her  all  upon  one  card  to  play, — 
And  then  life's  tempest  swept  the  ship  away, 
And  the  flower  faded  as  the  day  grew  dark  ? 

Falk. 

[Involuntarily.] 
She  must  not! 

Guldstad. 

[Looking  at  him  with  meaning.] 

Hm.     So  I  myself  decided 
When  I  was  young,  like  you.    In  days  of  old 
I  was  afire  for  one.     Our  paths  divided. 
Last  night  we  met  again; — the  fire  was  cold 


a<  r  inj  LOVES   COMEDY  459 

Falk. 
Last  night  ? 

Guldstad. 
Last  night.     You  know  the  parson's  dame— 

Falk. 

What ?     It  was   she,   then,  who — 

Guldstad. 

Who  lit  the  flame. 
Long  I  remembered  her  with  keen  regret, 
And  still  in  my  remembrance  she  arose 
As  the  young  lovely  woman  that  she  was 
When  in  life's  buoyant  spring-time  first  we  met. 
And  that  same  foolish  fire  you  now  are  fain 
To  light,  that  game  of  hazard  you  would  dare. 
See,  that  is  why  I  call  to  you — beware! 
The  game  is  perilous!    Pause,  and  think  again! 

Falk. 

No,  to  the  whole  tea-caucus  I  declared 
My  fixed  and  unassailable  belief — 

Guldstad. 
[Completing  his  sentence.] 

That  heartfelt  love  can  weather  unimpaired 
Custom,  and  Poverty,  and  Age,  and  Grief. 
Well,  say  it  be  so;   possibly  you're  right; 
But  see  the  matter  in  another  light. 
What  love  is,  no  man  ever  told  us — whence 
It  issues,  that  ecstatic  confidence 


460  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  in 

That  one  life  may  fulfil  itself  in  two, — 
To  this  no  mortal  ever  found  the  clue. 
But   marriage   is  a  practical  concern, 
As  also  is  betrothal,  my  good  sir — 
And  by  experience  easily  we  learn 
That  we  are  fitted  just  for   her,    or   her. 
But  love,  you  know,  goes  blindly  to  its  fate, 
Chooses  a  woman,  not  a  wife,  for  mate; 
And  what  if  now  this  chosen  woman  was 
No  wife  for  you —  ? 

Falk. 
[In  suspense.] 
Well  ? 

GULDSTAD. 

[Shrugging  his  shoulders.] 

Then  you've  lost  your  cause. 
To  make  a  happy  bridegroom  and  a  bride 
Demands  not  love  alone,  but  much  beside, 
Relations  one  can  meet  with  satisfaction, 
Ideas  that  do  not  wholly  disagree. 
And  marriage  ?    Why,  it  is  a  very  sea 
Of  claims  and  calls,  of  taxing  and  exaction, 
Whose  bearing  upon  love  is  very  small. 
Here  mild  domestic  virtues  are  demanded, 
A  kitchen  soul,  inventive  and  neat  handed, 
Making  no  claims,  and  executing  all; — 
And  much  which  in  a  lady's  presence  I 
Can  hardly  with  decorum  specify. 

Falk. 
And  therefore — ? 


act  hi]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  461 

GULDSTAD. 

Hear  a  golden  counsel  then. 
Use  your  experience;   watch  your  fellow-men, 
How  every  loving  couple  struts  and  swaggers 
Like  millionaires  among  a  world  of  beggars. 
They  scamper  to  the  aitar,  lad  and  lass, 
They  make  a  home  and,  drunk  with  exultation, 
Dwell  for  awhile  within  its  walls  of  glass. 
Then  comes  the  day  of  reckoning;— out,  alas, 
They're  bankrupt,  and  their  house  in  liquidation ! 
Bankrupt  the  bloom  of  youth  on  woman's  brow, 
Bankrupt  the  flower  of  passion  in  her  breast, 
Bankrupt  the  husband's  battle-ardour  now, 
Bankrupt  each  spark  of  passion  he  possessed. 
Bankrupt  the  whole  estate,  below,  above,— 
And  yet  this  broken  pair  were  once  confessed 
A  first-class  house  in  all  the  wares  of  love' 


That  is  a  lie! 


Falk. 

[Vefiemently.] 


Guldstad. 

[Unmoved.] 

Some  hours  ago  'twas  true 
However.    I  have  only  quoted  you; — 
In  these  same  words  you  challenged  to  the  field 
The  "caucus"  with  love's  name  upon  your  shield. 
Then  rang  repudiation  fast  and  thick 
From  all  directions,  as  from  you  at  present; 
Incredible,  I  know;    who  finds  it  pleasant 
To  hear  the  name  of  death  when  he  is  sick  ? 
Look  at  the  priest!    A  painter  and  composer 


462  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  hi 

Of  taste  and  spirit  when  he  wooed  his  bride; — 
What  wonder  if  the  man  became  a  proser 
When  she  was  snugly  settled  by  his  side  ? 
To  be  his  lady-love  she  was  most  fit; 
To  be  his  wife,  tho' — not  a  bit  of  it. 
And  then  the  clerk,  who  once  wrote  clever  numbers  ? 
No  sooner  was  the  gallant  plighted,  fixed, 
Than  all  his  rhymes  ran  counter  and  got  mixed; 
And  now  his  Muse  continuously  slumbers, 
Lullabied  by  the  law's  eternal  hum. 
Thus  you  see —  [Looks  at  Svanhild. 

Are  you  cold  ? 

Svanhild. 
[Softly.] 

No. 

Falk. 
[With  forced  humour.] 

Since  the  sum 
Works  out  a   minus   then  in  every  case 
And  never  shows  a   p  1  u  s, — why  should  you  be 
So  resolute  your  capital  to  place 
In  such  a  questionable  lottery? 
It  almost  looks  as  if  you  fancied  Fate 
Had  meant  you  for  a  bankrupt  from  your  birth  ? 

Guldstad. 
[Looks  at  him,  smiles,  and  shakes  his  head.] 

My  bold  young  Falk,  reserve  a  while  your  mirth. — 
There  are  two  ways  of  founding  an  estate. 
It  may  be  built  on  credit — drafts  long-dated 
On  pleasure  in  a  never-ending  bout, 
On  perpetuity  of  youth  unbated, 


act  in]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  463 

And  permanent  postponement  of  the  gout. 

It  may  be  built  on  lips  of  rosy  red, 

On  sparkling  eyes  and  locks  of  flowing  gold, 

On  trust  these  glories  never  will  be  shed, 

Nor  the  dread  hour  of  periwigs  be  tolled. 

It  may  be  built  on  thoughts  that  glow  and  quiver,— 

Flowers  blowing  in  the  sandy  wilderness,— 

On  hearts  that,  to  the  end  of  life,  for  ever 

Throb  with  the  passion  of  the  primal  "yes." 

To  dealings  such  as  this  the  world  extends 

One  epithet:    'tis  known  as  "humbug,"  friends. 

Falk. 

I  see,  you  are  a  dangerous  attorney, 

You— well-to-do,  a  millionaire,  maybe; 

While  two  broad  backs  could  carry  in  one  journey 

All  that  beneath  the  sun  belongs  to  me. 

GULDSTAD. 

[Sharply.] 
What  do  you  mean  ? 

Falk. 

That  is  not  hard  to  see. 
For  the  sound  way  of  building,  I  suppose, 
Is  just  with  cash — the  wonder-working  paint 
That  round  the  widow's  batten'd  forehead  throws 
The  aureole  of  a  young  adored  saint. 

Guldstad. 

O  no,  'tis  something  better  that  I  meant. 
'Tis  the  still  flow  of  generous  esteem, 


464  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  in 

Which  no  less  honours  the  recipient 

Than  does  young  rapture's  giddy-whirling  dream. 

It  is  the  feeling  of  the  blessedness 

Of  service,  and  home  quiet,  and  tender  ties, 

The  joy  of  mutual  self-sacrifice, 

Of  keeping  watch  lest  any  stone  distress 

Her  footsteps  wheresoe'er  her  pathway  lies; 

It  is  the  healing  arm  of  a  true  friend, 

The  manly  muscle  that  no  burdens  bend, 

The  constancy  no  length  of  years  decays, 

The  arm  that  stoutly  lifts  and  firmly  stays. 

This,  Svanhild,  is  the  contribution  I 

Bring  to  your  fortune's  fabric:    now,  reply. 

[Svanhild  makes  an  effort  to  speak;   Guldstad 
lifts  his  hand  to  check  her. 
Consider  well  before  you  give  your  voice! 
With  clear  deliberation  make  your  choice. 

Falk. 
And  how  have  you  discovered — 

Guldstad. 

That  you  love  her  ? 
That  in  your  eyes  'twas  easy  to  discover. 
Let  her  too  know  it.  [Presses  his  hand. 

Now  I  will  go  in. 
Let  the  jest  cease  and  earnest  work  begin; 
And  if  you  undertake  that  till  the  end 
You'll  be  to  her  no  less  a  faithful  friend, 
A  staff  to  lean  on,  and  a  help  in  need, 
Than  I  can  be—  [Turning  to  Svanhild. 

Why,  good,  my  offer's  nought; 
Cancel  it  from  the  tables  of  your  thought. 


act  in]  LOVE'S   COMEDY 


465 


Then  it  is  I  who  triumph  in  very  deed; 
You're  happy,  and  for  nothing  else  I  fought! 

[To  Falk. 
And,  apropos— just  now  you  spoke  of  cash, 
Trust  me,  'tis  little  more  than  tinsell'd  trash. 
I  have  no  ties,  stand  perfectly  alone; 
To  you  I  will  make  over  all  I  own; 
My  daughter  she  shall  be,  and  you  my  son. 
You  know  I  have  a  business  by  the  border: 
There  I'll  retire,  you  set  your  home  in  order, 
And  we'll  foregather  when  a  year  is  gone. 
Now,  Falk,  you  know  me;   with  the  same  precision 
Observe  yourself:   the  voyage  down  life's  stream, 
Remember,  is  no  pastime  and  no  dream. 
Now,  in  the  name  of  God— make  your  decision! 
[Goes  into  the  house.    Pause.    Falk  and  Svan- 
hild  look  shyly  at  each  other. 


You  are  so  pale. 


Falk. 

svanhild. 

And  you  so  silent. 

Falk. 


True. 


SvANHILD. 

He  smote  us  hardest. 


Falk. 
[To  himself.] 

Stole  my  armour,  too. 


466  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  hi 

SVANHILD. 

What  blows  he  struck! 

Falk. 

He  knew  to  place  them  well. 

Svanhild. 

All  seemed  to  go  to  pieces  where  they  fell. 

[Coming  nearer  to  him. 
How  rich  in  one  another's  Wealth  before 
We  were,  when  all  had  left  us  in  despite, 
And  Thought  rose  upward  like  the  echoing  roar 
Of  breakers  in  the  silence  of  the  night. 
With  exultation  then  we  faced  the  fray, 
And  confidence  that  Love  is  lord  of  death; — 
He  came  with  worldly  cunning,  stole  our  faith, 
Sowed  doubt, — and  all  the  glory  pass'd  away! 

Falk. 

[With  wild  vehemence.] 

Tear,  tear  it  from  thy  memory!    All  his  talk 
Was  true  for  others,  but  for  us  a  lie! 

Svanhild. 

[Slowly  shaking  her  head.] 

The  golden  grain,  hail-stricken  on  its  stalk, 
Will  never,  more  wave  wanton  to  the  sky". 

Falk. 
[With  an  outburst  of  anguish.] 
Yes,  we  two,  Svanhild — ! 


act  in]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  467 

SVANHILD. 

Hence  with  hopes  that  snare! 
[f  you  sow  falsehood,  you  must  reap  despair. 
For  others  true,  you  say?    And  do  you  doubt 
That  each  of  them,  like  us,  is  sure,  alike, 
That  he's  the  man  the  lightning  will  not  strike, 
And  no  avenging  thunder  will  find  out, 
Whom  the  blue  storm-cloud,  scudding  up  the  sky 
On  wings  of  tempest,  never  can  come  nigh  ? 

Falk. 
The  others  split  their  souls  on  scattered  ends: 
Thy  single  love  my  being  comprehends. 
They're  hoarse  with  yelling  in  life's  Babel  din: 
I  in  this  quiet  shelter  fold  thee  in. 

SVANHILD. 

But  if  love,  notwithstanding,  should  decay, 
—Love  being  Happiness 's  single  stay- 
Could  you  avert,  then,  Happiness's  fall  ? 

Falk. 
No,  my  love's  ruin  were  the  wreck  of  all. 

SVANHILD. 

And  can  you  promise  me  before  the  Lord 
That  it  will  last,  not  drooping  like  the  flower, 
But  smell  as  sweet  as  now  till  life's  last  hour? 

Falk. 
[After  a  short  pause.] 
It  will  last  long. 


468  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  in 

SVANHILD. 

[With  anguish.] 

"Long!"  "Long!" — Poor  starveling  word! 
Can  "long"  give  any  comfort  in  Love's  need? 
It  is  her  death-doom,  blight  upon  her  seed. 
"My  faith  is,  Love  will  never  pass  away" — 
That   song  must  cease,  and  in  its  stead  be  heard : 
"My  faith  is,  that  I  loved  you  yesterday!" 

[As  uplifted  by  inspiration. 
No,  no,  not  thus  our  day  of  bliss  shall  wane, 
Flag  drearily  to  west  in  clouds  and  rain; — 
But  at  high  noontide,  when  it  is  most  bright, 
Plunge  sudden,  like  a  meteor,  into  night! 

Falk. 
[In  anguish.] 
What  would  you,  Svanhild  ? 

Svanhild. 

We  are  of  the  Spring; 
No  Autumn  shall  come  after,  when  the  bird 
Of  music  in  thy  breast  shall  not  be  heard, 
And  long  not  thither  where  it  first  took  wing. 
Nor  ever  Winter  shall  his  snowy  shroud 
Lay  on  the  clay-cold  body  of  our  bliss; — 
This  Love  of  ours,  ardent  and  glad  and  proud, 
Pure  of  disease's  taint  and  age's  cloud, 
Shall  die  the  young  and  glorious  thing  it  is! 

Falk. 

[In  deep  pain.] 

And  far  from  thee — what  would  be  left  of  life  ? 


act  in]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  469 

SVANHILD. 

And  near  me  what  were  left— if  Love  depart  ? 

Falk. 
A  home! 

Svanhild. 

Where  Joy  would  gasp  in  mortal  strife. 

[Firmly. 

It  was  not  given  to  me  to  be  your  wife. 

That  is  the  clear  conviction  of  my  heart! 

In  courtship's  merry  pastime  I  can  lead, 

But  not  sustain  your  spirit  in  its  need. 

[Nearer  and  with  gathering  fire. 

Now  we  have  revell'd  out  a  feast  of  spring; 

No  thought  of  slumber's  sluggard  couch  come  nigh! 

Let  Joy  amid  delirious  song  make  wing 

And  flock  with  choirs  of  cherubim  on  high. 

And  tho'  the  vessel  of  our  fate  capsize, 

One  plank  yet  breasts  the  waters,  strong  to  save;— 

The  fearless  swimmer  reaches  Paradise! 

Let  Joy  go  down  into  his  watery  grave; 

Our  Love  shall  yet  in  triumph,  by  God's  hand, 

Be  borne  from  out  the  wreckage  safe  to  land! 

Falk. 
O,  I  divine  thee!    But— to  sever  thus! 
Now,  when  the  portals  of  the  world  stand  wide  — 
When  the  blue  spring  is  bending  over  us, 
On  the  same  day  that  plighted  thee  my  bride! 

Svanhild. 

Just  therefore  must  we  part.    Our  joy's  torch  fire 
Will  from  this  moment  wane  till  it  expire! 


470  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  in 

And  when  at  last  our  worldly  days  are  spent, 

And  face  to  face  with  our  great  Judge  we  stand, 

And,  as  a  righteous  God,  he  shall  demand 

Of  us  the  earthly  treasure  that  he  lent — 

Then,  Falk,  we  cry — past  power  of  Grace  to  save — 

"O  Lord,  we  lost  it  going  to  the  grave!" 

Falk. 
[With  strong  resolve.] 
Pluck  off  the  ring ! 

Svanhild. 
[With  fire.] 
Wilt  thou  ? 

Falk. 

Now  I  divine! 
Thus  and  no  otherwise  canst  thou  be  mine! 
As  the  grave  opens  into  life's  Dawn-fire, 
So  Love  with  Life. may  not  espoused  be 
Till,  loosed  from  longing  and  from  wild  desire, 
It  soars  into  the  heaven  of  memory! 
Pluck  off  the  ring,  Svanhild ! 

Svanhild. 

[In  rapture.] 

My  task  is  done! 
Now  I  have  filled  thy  soul  with  song  and  sun. 
Forth!    Now  thou  soarest  on  triumphant  wings, — 
Forth!    Now  thy  Svanhild  is  the  swan  that  sings! 
[Takes  off  the  ring  and  presses  a  kiss  upon  it 
To  the  abysmal  ooze  of  ocean  bed 


act  in]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  471 

Descend,  my  dream !-I  fling  thee  in  its  stead! 

[Goes  a  few  steps  back,  throws  the  ring  into  the 
fjord,  and  approaches  Falk  with  a  transfig- 
ured expression. 
Now  for  this  earthly  life  I  have  foregone  thee,— 
But  for  the  life  eternal  I  have  won  thee! 

Falk. 
[Firmly.] 

And  now  to  the  day's  duties,  each,  alone. 

Our  paths  no  more  will  mingle.    Each  must  wage 

His  warfare  single-handed,  without  moan. 

We  caught  the  fevered  frenzy  of  the  age, 

Fain  without  fighting  to  secure  the  spoil,' 

Win  Sabbath  ease,  and  shirk  the  six  days'  toil, 

Tho'  we  are  called  to  strive  and  to  forego. 

SVANHILD. 

But  not  in  sickness. 

Falk. 

No,— made  strong  by  truth. 
Our  heads  no  penal  flood  will  overflow; 
This  never-dying  memory  of  our  youth 
Shall  gleam  against  the  cloud-wrack  like  the  bow 
Of  promise  flaming  in  its  colours  seven,— 
Sign  that  we  are  in  harmony  with  heaven. 
That  gleam  your  quiet  duties  shall  make  bright— 

i 

SVANHILD. 

And  speed  the  poet  in  his  upward  flight! 


472  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  hi 

Falk. 

The  poet,  yes;   for  poets  all  men  are 
Who  see,  thro'  all  their  labours,  mean  or  great, 
In  pulpit  or  in  schoolroom,  church  or  state, 
The  Ideal's  lone  beacon-splendour  flame  afar. 
Yes,  upward  is  my  flight;    the  winged  steed 
Is  saddled;   I  am  strong  for  noble  deed. 
And  now  farewell! 

Svanhild. 
Farewell ! 

Falk. 

[Embracing  her.] 

One  kiss! 

Svanhild. 

The  last! 
[Tears  herself  free. 
Now  I  can  lose  thee  gladly  till  life's  past! 

Falk. 

Tho'  quenched  were  all  the  light  of  earth  and  sky, — 
The  thought  of  light  is  God,  and  cannot  die.  - 

Svanhild. 
[Withdrawing  towards  the  background.] 
Farewell!  [Goes  further. 

' '  Falk. 

Farewell — gladly  I  cry  again — 

[Waves  his  hat. 


I 


act  in]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  473 

Hurrah  for  love,  God's  glorious  gift  to  men! 

[The  door  opens.  Falk  withdraw*  to  the  right; 
the  younger  guests  come  out  with  merry 
laughter. 

The  Young  Girls. 
A  lawn  dance! 

A  Young  Girl. 
Dancing's  life! 

Another. 

A  garland  spread 
With  dewy  blossoms  fresh  on  every  head! 

Several. 
Yes,  to  the  dance,  the  dance! 

All. 

And  ne'er  to  bed ! 
[Stiver  comes  out  with  Strawman  arm  in  arm. 
Mrs.  Strawman  and  t/ie  children  follow. 

Stiver. 
Yes,  you  and  I  henceforward  are  fast  friends. 

Strawman. 
Allied  in  battle  for  our  common  ends. 

Stiver. 
When  the  twin  forces  of  the  State  agree— 

Strawman. 
They  add  to  all  men's— 


474  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  hi 

Stiver. 
I  Hastily.] 

Gains! 

Strawman. 

And  gaiety. 
[Mrs.  Halm,  Lind,  Anna,  Guldstad,  and 
Miss  Jay,  with  the  other  guests,  come  out. 
All  eyes  are  turned  upon  Falk  and  Svanhild. 
General  amazement  when  they  are  seen  stand- 
ing apart. 

Miss  Jay. 

[Among  the  Aunts,  clasping  her  hands.] 
What!     Am  I  awake  or  dreaming,  pray? 

Lind. 
[Who  has  noticed  nothing.] 

I  have  a  brother's  compliments  to  pay. 

[He,  with  the  other  guests,  approaches  Falk,  but 

starts  involuntarily  and  steps  back  on  looking 

at  him. 
What  is  the  matter  with  you  ?    You're  a  Janus 
With  double  face! 

Falk. 

[Smiling.] 

I  cry,  like  old  Montanus,1 
The  earth  is  flat,  Messieurs; — my  optics  lied; 
Flat  as  a  pancake — are  you  satisfied  ? 

[Goes  quickly  out  to  the  right. 
1  See  Notes,  page  484. 


iCTin]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  475 

Miss  Jay. 

Refused ! 

The  Aunts. 
Refused ! 

Mrs.  Halm. 

•  Hush,  ladies,  if  you  please! 

[Goes  across  to  Svanhild. 

Mrs.  Strawman. 

[To  Strawman.] 
Fancy,  refused ! 

Strawman. 
It  cannot  be! 

Miss  Jay. 

It  is! 

The  Ladies. 
[From  mouth  to  mouth.] 
Refused !     Refused !     Refused ! 

[They  gather  in  little  groups  about  the  garden. 

Stiver. 
[Dumfounded.] 

H  e    courting  ?     How  P 

Strawman. 
Yes,  think!    He  laugh'd  at  us,  ha,  ha— but  now— 
[They  gaze  at  each  other  speechless. 


476  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  hi 

Anna. 

[To  LlND.] 
That's  good!    He  was  too  horrid,  to  be  sure! 

Lind. 

[Embracing  her.] 

Hurrah,  now  thou  art  mine,  entire  and  whole.  • 

[They  go  outside  into  the  garden. 

Guldstad. 

[Looking  back  towards  Svanhild.] 

Something  is  shattered  in  a  certain  soul; 
But  what  is  yet  alive  in  it  I'll  cure. 

Strawman. 

[Recovering  himself  and  embracing  Stiver.] 

Now  then,  you  can  be  very  well  contented 
To  have  your  dear  fiancee  for  a  spouse. 

Stiver. 

And  you  complacently  can  see  your  house 
With  little  Strawmans  every  year  augmented. 

Strawman. 

[Rubbing  his  hands  with  satisfaction  and  looking  after 

Falk.] 
Insolent  fellow!    Well,  it  served  him  right; — 
Would  all  these  knowing  knaves  were  in  his  plight! 
[They  go  across  in  conversation;    Mrs.  Halm 
approaches  with  Svanhild. 


act  ml  LOVE'S   COMEDY  477 

Mrs.  Halm. 

[Aside,  eagerly.] 
And  nothing  binds  you  ? 

Svanhild. 

Nothing. 

Mrs.  Halm. 

a  j       ,  .     ,     ,  Good,  you  know 

A  daughter  s  duty — 

Svanhild. 

Guide  me,  I  obey. 

Mrs.  Halm. 

Thanks,  child.  [Pointing  to  Guldstad. 

.  He  is  a  rich  and  comme  ilfaut 

Parti;  and  since  there's  nothing  in  the  way— 

Svanhild. 

Yes,  there  is  one  condition  I  require!—     • 
To  leave  this  place. 

Mrs.  Halm. 

Precisely  his  desire. 

Svanhild. 
And  time — 

Mrs.  Halm. 
How  long  ?     Bethink  you,  fortune's  calling ! 


478  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  hi 

SvANHILD. 

[With  a  quiet  smile] 
Only  a  little;    till  the  leaves  are  falling. 

[She  goes  towards  the  verandah;    Mrs.  Halm 
seeks  out  Guldstad. 

Strawman. 
[Among  the  guests.] 

One  lesson,  friends,  we  learn  from  this  example! 
Tho'  Doubt's  beleaguering  forces  hem  us  in, 
Yet  Truth  upon  the  Serpent's  head  shall  trample, 
The  cause  of  Love  shall  win — 

Guests. 

Yes,  Love  shall  win! 
[They  embrace  and  kiss,  pair  by  pair.     Outside 
to  the  left  are  heard  song  and  laughter. 

Miss  Jay. 
What  can  this  mean  ? 

Anna. 

The  students! 

Lind. 

The  quartette, 
Bound  for  the  mountains; — and  I  quite  forgot 
To  tell  them— 

[The  Students  come  in  to  the  left  and  remain 
standing  at  the  entrance. 

A  Student. 
[To  Lind.] 
Here  we  are  upon  the  spot! 


act  in]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  479 

Mrs.  Halm. 
It's  Lind  you  seek,  then? 

Miss  Jay. 

TT  ,    .  .  That's  unfortunate. 

He  s  just  engaged — 

An  Aunt. 

And  so,  you  may  be  sure, 
He  cannot  think  of  going  on  a  tour. 

The  Students. 
Engaged ! 

All  the  Students. 
Congratulations ! 

Lind. 
[To  his  comrades.] 

Thanks,  my  friends! 
The  Student. 
[  To  his  comrades.] 
There  goes  our  whole  fish-kettle  in  the  fire! 
Our  tenor  lost!    No  possible  amends! 

Falk. 

Coming  from  the  right,  in  summer  suit,  with  student's 
cap,  knapsack  and  stick.] 
I'll  sing  the  tenor  in  young  Norway's  choir! 

The  Students. 
You,  Falk!  hurrah! 


480  LOVE'S   COMEDY  [act  hi 

Falk. 

Forth  to  the  mountains,  come! 
As  the  bee  hurries  from  her  winter  home! 
A  twofold  music  in  my  breast  I  bear, 
A  cither  with  diversely  sounding  strings, 
One  for  life's  joy,  a  treble  loud  and  clear, 
And  one  deep  note  that  quivers  as  it  sings. 

[To  individuals  among  the  Students. 
You  have  the  palette  ? — You  the  note-book  ?  Good, 
Swarm  then,  my  bees,  into  the  leafy  wood, 
Till  at  nightfall  with  pollen-laden  thigh, 
Home  to  our  mighty  mother-queen  we  fly! 

[Turning  to  the  company,  while  the  Students 
depart  and  the   Chorus  of  tlie  First  Act  is 
faintly  heard  outside. 
Forgive  me  my  offences  great  and  small, 
I  resent  nothing; —  [Softly. 

but  remember  all. 

Stbawman. 

[Beaming  with  happiness.] 

Now  fortune's  garden  once  again  is  green! 
My  wife  has  hopes, — a  sweet  presentiment — 

[Draws  him  whispering  apar 
She  lately  whispered  of  a  glad  event — 

[Inaudible  words  intervene. 
If  all  goes  well  ...  at  Michaelmas  .  .  .  thirteen! 

Stiver. 

[With  Miss  Jay  on  his  arm,  turning  to  Falk,  smilei 
triumphantly,  and  says,  pointing  to  Strawman:] 

I'm  going  to  start  a  household,  flush  of  pelf! 


act  in]  LOVE'S   COMEDY  481 

Miss  Jay. 

[With  an  ironical  courtesy.] 
I  shall  put  on  my  wedding-ring  next  Yule. 

Anna. 
[Similarly,  as  she  takes  Lind's  arm.] 
My  Lind  will  stay,  the  Church  can  mind  itself — 

Lind. 
[Hiding  his  embarrassment.] 
And  seek  an  opening  in  a  ladies'  school. 

Mrs.  Halm. 
I  cultivate  my  Anna's  capabilities — 

Guldstad. 

[Gravely.] 

An  unromantic  poem  I  mean  to  make 
Of  one  who  only  lives  for  duty's  sake. 

Falk. 

[With  a  smile  to  the  whole  company.] 

I  go  to  scale  the  Future's  possibilities! 
Farewell!  [Softly  to  Svanhild. 

God  bless  thee,  bride  of  my  life's  dawn, 
Where'er  I  be,  to  nobler  deed  thou'lt  wake  me. 

[Waves  his  Jiat  and  follows  tfie  Students. 

Svanhild. 

[Looks  after  him  a  moment,  then  says,  softly  but  firmly:] 
Now  over  is  my  life,  by  lea  and  lawn, 


482  LOVE'S   COMEDY  Uct  m 

The  leaves  are  falling; — now  the  world  may  take  me. 
[At  this  moment  the  piano  strikes  up  a  dance, 
and  champagne  corks  explode  in  the  back- 
ground. The  gentlemen  hurry  to  and  fro 
with  their  ladies  on  their  arms.  Guldstad 
approaches  Svanhild  and  bows:  she  starts 
momentarily,  then  collects  Jierself  and  gives 
him  her  hand.  Mrs.  Halm  and  her  family, 
who  have  watched  the  scene  in  suspense, 
throng  about  them  with  expressions  of  rap- 
ture, which  are  overpowered  by  the  music  and 
the  merriment  of  the  dancers  in  the  garden. 
[But  from  the  country,  the  following  chorus  rings 
loud  and  defiant  through  the  dance  music: 

Chorus  of  Falk  and  the  Students. 

And  what  if  I  shattered  my  roaming  bark, 
It  was  passing  sweet  to  be  roaming! 

Most  of  the  Company. 
Hurrah ! 

[Dance  and  merriment;  the  curtain  falls. 


NOTES 

P.  324.  William  Russel.  An  original  historic  tragedy,  founded 
upon  the  career  of  the  ill-fated  Lord  William  Russell,  by  An- 
dreas Munch,  cousin  of  the  historian  P.  A.  Munch.  It  was 
produced  at  Christiania  in  1857,  the  year  of  Ibsen's  return  from 
Bergen,  and  reviewed  by  him  in  the  Illustreret  Nyhedsblad  for 
that  year,  Nos.  51  and  52.  Professor  Johan  Storm  of  Chris- 
tiania, to  whose  kindness  I  owe  these  particulars,  adds  that  "it 
is  rather  a  fine  play  and  created  a  certain  sensation  in  its  time; 
but  Munch  is  forgotten." 

P.  326.  A  gray  old  stager.  Ibsen's  friend  P.  Botten-Hansen, 
author  of  the  play  Hyldrebryllupet. 

P.  367.  A  Svanhild,  like  the  old.  In  the  tale  of  the  Volsungs 
Svanhild  was  the  daughter  of  Sigurd  and  Gudrun,— the  Siegfried 
and  Kriemhild  of  the  Nibelungenlied.  The  fierce  king  Jor- 
munrek,  hearing  of  her  matchless  beauty,  sends  his  son  Randwer 
to  woo  her  in  his  name.  Randwer  is,  however,  induced  to  woo 
her  in  his  own,  and  the  girl  approves.  Jormunrek  thereupon 
causes  Randwer  to  be  arrested  and  hanged,  and  meeting  with 
Svanhild,  as  he  and  his  men  ride  home  from  the  hunt,  tramples 
her  to  death  under  their  horses'  hoofs.  Gudrun  incites  her  sons 
Sorli  and  Hamdir  to  avenge  their  sister;  they  boldly  enter 
Jorinunrek's  ball,  and  succeed  in  cutting  off  his  hands  and  feet, 
but  are  themselves  slain  by  his  men.  This  last  dramatic  episode 
is  told  in  the  Eddie  Hamthismol. 

P.  405.  In  the  remotest  east  there  grows  a  plant.  The  germ  of 
the  famous  tea-simile  is  due  to  Fru  Collett's  romance,  The 
Official's  Daughters.  But  she  exploits  the  idea  only  under  a 
single  and  obvious  aspect,  viz.,  the  comparison  of  the  tender 
bloom  of  love  with  the  precious  firstling  blade  which  brews  the 
quintessential  tea  for  the  Chinese  emperor's  table;  what  the 
world  calls  love  being,  like  what  it  calls  tea,  a  coarse  and 
■kTourlesa  aftercrop.  Ibsen  has,  it  will  be  seen,  given  a 
number  of  ingenious  developments  to  the  analogy.     I    know 

483 


484 


NOTES 


Fru  Collett's  work  only  through  the  accounts  of  it  given  by 
Brandes  and  Jaeger. 

P.  448.  Another  Burns.  In  the  original:  Dolen  (The  Dales- 
man), that  is  A.  O.  Vinje,  Ibsen's  friend  and  literary  comrade, 
editor  of  the  journal  so-called  and  hence  known  familiarly  by 
its  name.    See  the  Introduction. 

P.  474.  Like  Old  Monianus.  The  hero  of  Holberg's  comedy 
Erasmus  Mountanus,  who  returns  from  foreign  travel  to  his  native 
parish  with  the  discovery  that  the  world  is  not  flat.  Public 
indignation  is  aroused,  and  Montanus  finds  it  expedient  to 
announce  that  his  eyes  had  deceived  him,  that  "the  world  is  flat, 
gentlemen." 


THE  VIKINGS  AT  HELGELAND 
THE  PRETENDERS 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

INTRODUCTION  TO  "  THE   VIKINGS   AT   HELGELAND  "  3 

"  THE  VIKINGS  AT  HELGELAND  " 17 

Translated  by  William  Archer 

INTRODUCTION  TO  "  THE  PRETENDERS  "      ....  141 

"  THE  PRETENDERS  " 153 

Translated  by  William  Archer 


THE  VIKINGS  AT  HELGELAND 


THE  VIKINGS  AT  HELGELAND 

INTRODUCTION* 

Ibsen  himself  has  told  us,  in  his  preface  to  the  sec- 
ond edition  of  The  Feast  at  Solhoug,  how  the  reading  of 
the  Icelandic  family-sagas  suggested  to  him,  in  germ,  the 
theme  of  The  Vikings  at  Helgeland.  What  he  first  saw, 
he  says,  was  the  contrasted  figures  of  the  two  women  who 
ultimately  became  Hiordis  and  Dagny,  together  with  a 
great  banquet-scene  at  which  an  interchange  of  taunts 
and  gibes  should  lead  to  tragic  consequences.  The  con- 
ception of  the  two  women's  characters  was  certainly  not 
new  to  him,  seeing  that  a  similar  contrast  presents  itself 
in  his  very  earliest  work,  Catilina,  between  the  aptly- 
named  Furia  and  the  gentle  Aurelia;  while  even  in  Lady 
Inger  of  Ostrat  it  reappears,  somewhat  disguised,  in  the 
contrast  between  Inger  Gyldenlove  and  her  daughter 
Elina.  While  the  scheme  of  The  Vikings  was  still  en- 
tirely vague,  however,  fresh  influences,  both  of  a  personal 
and  of  a  literary  nature,  intervened,  and,  transposing  the 
theme  from  the  purely  dramatic  into  the  lyrical  key,  he 
produced  The  Feast  at  Solhoug.  The  foster-sisters, 
Hiordis  and  Dagny,  became  the  sisters  Margit  and  Signe, 
and  the  banquet,  instead  of  being  the  culminating-point 
of  the  dramatic  action,  became  its  mere  background. 

*  Copyright,  1906,  by  Charles  Scribner's  Sons. 
3 


4  THE  VIKINGS   AT  HELGELAND 

The  fact  probably  is  that  in  1855  the  poet  found  him- 
self still  unripe  for  the  intense  effort  of  dramatic  concen- 
tration involved  in  such  a  work  as  The  Vikings.  Proba- 
bly, too,  he  knew  that  neither  his  actors  nor  his  public  at 
the  Bergen  Theatre  were  prepared  to  go  back  to  the 
primitive  austerity  of  the  heroic  age,  as  it  was  beginning 
to  body  itself  forth  in  his  mind.  The  good  Bergensers 
were  accustomed  either  to  French  intrigue  (such  as  he  had 
given  them  in  Lady  Inger)  or  to  Danish  lyrical  roman- 
ticism; and  he  perhaps  foresaw  that  the  ruling  taste  of 
Bergen  would  be  as  hard  to  contend  against  as,  in  the 
sequel,  the  ruling  taste  of  Copenhagen  actually  proved 
to  be.  At  all  events,  from  whatever  mingling  of  motives, 
he  put  the  heroic  theme  aside  for  two  years,  while  he  kept 
to  the  key  of  lyrical  romanticism  not  only  in  the  Feast  at 
Solhoug,  written  in  the  summer  of  1855,  but  also  in  the 
very  feeble  Olaf  Liliekrans,  conceived  much  earlier,  but 
written  in  1856.  Not  until  he  had  left  Bergen  behind 
him,  and  returned  to  Christiania  in  the  summer  of  1857, 
did  the  poet  take  up  again,  and  rapidly  work  out,  the 
theme  of  The  Vikings.  It  is  almost  inconceivable  that 
only  a  year  should  have  intervened  between  it  and  Olaf 
Liliekrans. 

Paul  Botten-Hansen,  perhaps  Ibseri's  closest  friend  of 
those  days,  has  stated  that  The  Vikings  was  begun  in 
verse.  If  so,  the  metre  chosen  was  probably  the  twelve- 
syllable  measure  of  Oehlenschlager's  Balder's  Death,  sup- 
posed to  represent  the  iambic  trimeter  of  the  Greek 
dramatists.  In  an  essay  On  tfie  Heroic  Ballad,  written  in 
Bergen  in  the  early  months  of  1857,  Ibsen  had  condemned, 
as  a  medium  for  the  treatment  of  Scandinavian  themes, 


INTRODUCTION  5 

the  iambic  decasyllable  (our  blank  verse)  in  whi6K  Oeh- 
lenschliiger  had  written  most  of  his  plays,  and  which  Ibsen 
himself  had  adopted  in  his  early  imitation  of  Oehlen- 
schlager,  TJie  Warrior's  Barrow.  Blank  verse  Ibsen  re- 
garded as  "entirely  foreign"  to  Norwegian-Danish  pros- 
ody, and,  moreover,  a  product  of  Christian  influences; 
Avhereas  pagan  antiquity,  if  treated  in  verse  at  all,  ought 
to  be  treated  in  the  pagan  measure  of  the  Greeks.  At 
the  same  time  we  find  him  expressing  a  doubt  whether 
Oehlenschlager's  Hakon  Jarl  might  not  have  been  just 
as  poetic  in  prose  as  in  verse — a  doubt  which  clearly 
shows  in  what  direction  his  thoughts  were  turning.  It 
must  be  regarded  as  a  great  mercy  that  he  abandoned 
the  iambic  trimeter,  which,  in  Oehlenschlager's  hands, 
was  nothing  but  an  unrhymed  Alexandrine  with  the 
caesura  displaced. 

This  same  essay  On  the  Heroic  Ballad  throws  a  curious 
light  on  the  difficulties  which  occasioned  the  long  delay 
between  the  conception  and  the  execution  of  The  Vikings. 
He  lays  it  down  that  "the  heroic  ballad  is  much  better 
fitted  than  the  saga  for  dramatic  treatment.  The  saga 
is  a  great,  cold,  rounded,  and  self-contained  epos,  essen- 
tially objective,  and  exclusive  of  all  lyricism.  ...  If, 
now,  the  poet  is  to  extract  a  dramatic  work  from  this  epic 
material,  he  must  necessarily  bring  into  it  a  foreign,  a 
lyrical,  element;  for  the  drama  is  well  known  to  be  a 
higher  blending  of  the  lyric  and  the  epos."  This  "well- 
known  "  dogma  he  probably  accepted  from  the  German  }to 
a\stheticians  with  whom,  about  this  time,  he  seems  to 
have  busied  himself.  A  little  further  on,  he  adds  that 
the  accommodating  prosody  of  the  ballads  gives  room  for 


6  THE  VIKINGS   AT  HELGELAND 

"many  freedoms  which  are  of  great  importance  to  dra- 
matic dialogue,"  and  consequently  prophesies  a  great 
future  for  the  drama  drawn  from  this  source.  It  was  a 
luckless  prophecy.  He  himself,  though  apparently  he  little 
guessed  it,  had  done  his  last  work  in  lyrical  romance; 
and  though  it  has  survived,  sporadically,  in  Danish  and 
even  in  German  literature,  it  can  count  but  few  master- 
pieces during  the  past  half-century.  Perhaps,  however, 
Hauptmann's  Sunken.  Bell  might  be  taken  as  justifying 
Ibsen's  forecast.1 

It  must  have  been  very  soon  after  this  essay  was  pub- 
lished (May  1857)  that  Ibsen  discovered  how  to  impose 
dramatic  form  upon  the  epic  material  of  the  sagas,  without 
dragging  in  any  foreign  lyrical  element.  He  suddenly 
saw  his  way,  it  would  seem,  to  reproducing  in  dialogue 
the  terse,  unvarnished  prose  of  the  sagas  themselves, 
eloquent  in  reticence  rather  than  in  rhetorical  or  lyrical 
abundance. 

Had  he,  or  had  he  not,  in  the  meantime  read  Bjornson's 
one-act  play,  Between  the  Battles?  It  was  not  produced 
until  October  27,  1857,  by  which  time  The  Vikings  must 
have  been  almost,  if  not  quite,  finished.  But  Ibsen  may 
have  seen  it  in  manuscript  several  months  earlier,  and  it 
may  have  put  him  on  the  track  of  the  form  in  which  to 
cast  his  saga-material.  The  style  of  The  Vikings  is  in- 
comparably firmer,  purer,  more  homogeneous  and  clear- 
cut  than  that  of  Between  the  Battles;  but  Bjornson's 
mediaeval  comedietta  (it  is  really  little  more)  may  quite 

1  Though  he  himself  wrote  no  more  plays  in  the  key  of  The  Feast 
at  Solhoug,  the  "  accommodating  prosody  "  of  the  ballads  had  doubt- 
less its  influence  on  the  metres  of  Peer  Gynt. 


INTRODUCTION  ,    7 

well  have  given  Ibsen  a  valuable  impulse  towards  the 
adaptation  of  the  saga-style  to  drama.  The  point,  how- 
ever, is  of  little  moment.  It  is  much  more  important  to 
note  that  while  Ibsen  was  writing  Tlw  Vikings  Bjornson 
was  writing  his  peasant-idyll  Synnove  Solbakken;  so  that 
these  two  corner-stones  of  modern  Norwegian  literature 
were  laid,  to  all  intents  and  purposes,  simultaneously. 

In  an  autobiographic  letter  to  Peter  Hansen,1  written 
in  1870,  Ibsen  mentions  this  play  very  briefly:  "  The 
Vikings  at  Helgeland  I  wrote  whilst  I  was  engaged  to  be 
married.  For  Hiordis  I  had  the  same  model  as  I  took 
afterwards  for  Svanhild  in  Love's  Comedy"  More 
noteworthy  is  his  preface  to  a  German  translation  of 
the  play,  published  in  1876.     It  runs  as  follows: 

"In  issuing  a  German  translation  of  one  of  my  earlier 
dramatic  works,  it  may  not  be  superfluous  to  remark  that 
I  have  taken  the  material  of  this  play,  not  from  the  Nibe- 
lungenlied,  but  in  part— and  in  part  only— from  a  kindred 
Scandinavian  source,  the  Volsung-Saga.  More  essen- 
tially, however,  my  poem  may  be  said  to  be  founded  upon 
the  various  Icelandic  family-sagas,  in  which  it  often  seems 
that  the  titanic  conditions  and  occurrences  of  the  Nibe- 
lungenlied  and  the  Volsung-Saga  have  simply  been  re- 
duced to  human  dimensions.  Hence  I  think  we  may  con- 
clude that  the  situations  and  events  depicted  in  these  two 
documents  were  typically  characteristic  of  our  common 
Germanic  life  in  the  earliest  historical  times.  If  this 
view  be  justified,  it  disposes  of  the  reproach  that  in  the 
.present  drama  our  national  mythic  world  is  brought  down 
a  lower  plane  than  that  to  which  it  belongs.  The 
1  Correspondence,  Letter  74. 


8  THE  VIKINGS   AT  HELGELAND 

idealised,  and  in  some  degree  impersonal,  myth-figures 
are  exceedingly  ill-adapted  for  representation  on  the 
stage  of  to-day;  and,  however  this  may  be,  it  was  not  my 
aim  to  present  our  mythic  world,  but  simply  our  life  in 
primitive  times." 

The  reasoning  of  this  passage  does  not  seem  very  co- 
gent; but  it  expresses  clearly  enough  the  design  which  the 
poet  proposed  to  himself.  Before  discussing  the  merits 
of  the  play,  however,  I  may  as  well  complete  the  outline 
of  its  external  history. 

Part  of  that  external  history  is  written  by  Ibsen  himself 
in  letters  to  the  Christiania  Press  of  the  day.  In  the 
autumn  of  1857,  he  presented  the  play  to  the  Christiania 
Theatre,  then  occupied  by  a  Danish  company  under 
Danish  management.  After  a  long  delay,  he  ascertained 
that  it  had  been  accepted  and  would  be  produced  in 
March,  1858.  He  then  proposed  to  consult  with  the 
manager  as  to  the  casting  of  the  piece,  but  found  that  that 
functionary  had  no  clear  conception  of  either  the  plot  or 
the  characters,  and  therefore  left  him  a  couple  of  months 
in  which  to  study  it.  At  the  end  of  that  time  the  poet 
again  reminded  the  potentate  of  his  existence,  and  learned 
that  "since  the  economic  status  and  prospects  of  the 
theatre  did  not  permit  of  its  paying  fees  for  original 
works,"  the  proposed  production  could  not  take  place. 
Ibsen  hints  that,  had  the  choice  been  offered  him,  he 
would  have  consented  to  the  performance  of  the  piece 
without  fee  or  reward.  As  the  choice  was  not  offered 
him,  he  regarded  the  whole  episode  as  a  move  in  the  anti- 
national  policy  of  the  Danish  management;  and  the  con- 
troversy which  arose  out  of  the  incident  doubtless  con- 


INTRODUCTION  9 

tributed  to  the  nationalisation  of  the  Christiania  Theatre 
the  supersession  of  Danish  by  Norwegian  managers, 
actors  and  authors — which  took  place  during  the  suc- 
ceeding decade. 

In  the  meantime,  almost  simultaneously  with  the  rejec- 
tion of  the  play  by  the  Christiania  Theatre,  it  was  rejected 
by  the  Royal  Theatre  in  Copenhagen.  The  director, 
J.  L.  Heiberg,  was  then  regarded  as  an  autocrat  in  the 
aesthetic  world;  and  his  report  on  The  Vikings  is  now  a 
curiosity  of  literature.  He  declared  that  nothing  was  so 
"monotonous,  tiresome  and  devoid  of  all  poetry"  as  the 
Icelandic  family-sagas;  he  could  not  endure  their  "wild- 
ness  and  rawness"  on  the  stage;  the  saga-style,  as  repro- 
duced by  Ibsen,  seemed  to  him  "mannered  and  affected"; 
and  he  concluded  his  judgment  in  these  terms:  "A  Nor- 
wegian theatre  will  scarcely  take  its  rise  from  such  experi- 
ments, and  the  Danish  theatre  has  fortunately  no  need 
for  them." 

The  play  was  published  in  April,  1858,  as  a  supplement 
to  a  Christiania  illustrated  paper,  the  author  receiving  an 
I  honorarium  "  of  something  less  than  £7.  On  Novem- 
ber 24,  1858,  it  was  produced  at  the  little  "  Norwegian 
Theatre"  in  Christiania,  of  which  the  poet  was  then 
director.  At  the  Bergen  Theatre  it  was  produced  in  1859, 
at  the  Christiania  Theatre  (by  that  time  pretty  well  Nor- 
wegianised)  in  1861.  It  did  not  make  its  way  to  Copen- 
hagen and  Stockholm  until  1875.  In  1876  it  was  acted 
at  the  Court  Theatres  of  Munich  and  Dresden,  and  at 
the  Vienna  Burgtheater.  Thenceforward  it  was  pretty 
frequently  seen  on  the  German  stage;  but  it  does  not  seem 
to  have  reached  Berlin  (Deutsches  Theater)  until  1890. 


10  THE   VIKINGS  AT  HELGELAND 

In  1892  it  was  produced  in  Moscow.  The  only  pro- 
duction in  the  English  language  of  which  any  account  has 
reached  me  took  place  in  1903  at  the  Imperial  Theatre, 
London,  when  Miss  Ellen  Terry  appeared  as  Hiordis  and 
Mr.  Oscar  Asche  as  Sigurd.  The  scenery  and  dresses 
were  designed  by  Miss  Terry's  son,  Mr.  Gordon  Craig. 

It  would  need  not  merely  an  essay,  but  a  volume,  to 
discuss  the  relation  of  The  Vikings  to  its  mythic  material, 
and  to  other  modern  treatments  of  that  material — Fried- 
rich  Hebbel's  Die  Nibelungen,  Richard  Wagner's  Ring 
der  Nibelungen,  etc.  The  poet's  actual  indebtedness 
to  the  Volsung-Saga  is  well  summarised  by  Henrik 
Jaeger  in  his  Life  of  Ibsen:  "Like  Sigurd  Fafnir's- 
bane,"  he  says,  "Sigurd  Viking  has  achieved  the  deed 
which  Hiordis  (Brynhild)  demands  of  the  man  who  shall 
wed  her;  and,  again  like  his  heroic  namesake,  he  has  re- 
nounced her  in  favour  of  his  foster-brother,  Gunnar,  him- 
self taking  another  to  wife.  This  other  woman  reveals 
the  secret  in  the  course  of  an  altercation  with  Hiordis 
(Brynhild),  who,  in  consequence  of  this  discovery,  brings 
about  Sigurd's  death  and  her  own.  The  reader  will  ob- 
serve that  we  must  keep  to  very  general  terms  if  they  are 
to  fit  both  the  saga  and  the  drama.  Are  there  any  further 
coincidences?  Yes,  one.  After  Gudrun  has  betrayed 
the  secret,  there  comes  a  scene  in  which  she  seeks  to 
appease  Brynhild,  and  begs  her  to  think  no  more  of  it; 
then  follows  a  scene  in  which  Sigurd  explains  to  Brynhild 
how  it  all  happened ;  and  finally  a  scene  in  which  Bryn- 
hild goads  Gunnar  to  kill  Sigurd.  All  these  scenes  have 
their  parallels  in  the  third  act  of  The  Vikings;  but  their 
order  is  different,  and  none  of  their  wording  has  been 


INTRODUCTION  11 

adopted."     From  the  family-sagas,  again,  not  only  the 
stature  of  the  characters,  so  to  speak,  but  several  details 
of  incident  and  dialogue  are  borrowed.     The  boasting- 
match  at  Gunnar's  feast,  which,  as  we  have  seen,  was  one 
of  the  first  elements  of  the  story  to  present  itself  to  Ibsen's 
mind,  has  many  analogies  in  Icelandic  lore.     Ornulf's 
questions  as  to  how  Thorolf  fell  are  borrowed  from  Egils 
Saga,  and  so  is  the  idea  of  his  "drapa,"  or  funeral  chant 
over  his  dead  sons.     Sigurd  and  Hiordis  are,  perhaps, 
almost  as  closely  related  to  Kiartan  and  Gudrun  in  the 
Laxdoela  Saga  as  to  Sigurd's  Fafnir's-bane  and  Brynhild. 
Indeed,  Ibsen  seems  to  have  reckoned  too  confidently  on 
the  unfamiliarity  of  his  public  with  the  stores  of  material 
upon  which  he  drew.     Not,  of  course,  that  there  could  be 
any  question  of  plagiarism.     The  sagas  were  as  legit- 
imately at  Ibsen's  service  as  were  Plutarch  and  Holinshed 
at  Shakespeare's.     But  having  been  himself,  as  he  tells 
us,  almost  ignorant  of  the  existence  of  these  sagas  until 
he  came  across  N.  M.  Petersen's  translation  of  them,  he 
forgot  that  people  who  had  long  known  and  loved  them 
might  resent  the  removal  of  this  trait  and  that  from 
its  original  setting,  and  might  hold  it  to  be,  in  its  new 
context,  degraded  and  sentimentalised.     "It  may  be," 
writes  H.  H.  Boyesen,  in  his  generally  depreciatory  re- 
marks on  the  play,  "that  my  fondness  for  these  sagas 
themselves  prevents  me  from  relishing  the  modification 
and  remoulding  to  which  Ibsen  has  subjected  them." 
Dr.  Brandes,  too,  points  to  a  particular  instance  in  which 
the  sense  of  degradation  could  not  but  be  felt:     The  day- 
dream as  to  the  hair-woven  bowstring  which  Hiordis  re- 
lates to  Sigurd  in  the  third  act  (p.  105)  is  in  itself  effective 


12  THE   VIKINGS   AT  HELGELAND 

enough;  but  any  one  who  knows  the  splendid  passage  in 
Nials  Saga,  on  which  it  is  founded,  cannot  but  feel  that 
the  actual  (or  at  any  rate  legendary)  event  is  impoverished 
by  being  dragged  in  under  the  guise  of  a  mere  morbid 
fantasy. 

On  the  whole,  I  think  Ibsen  can  scarcely  escape  the 
charge  of  having  sentimentalised  the  sagas  in  the  same 
way,  though  not  in  the  same  degree,  in  which  Tenny- 
son has  sentimentalised  the  Arthurian  legends.  Indeed, 
Sigurd  the  Strong  is  not  without  points  of  resemblance 
to  the  Blameless  King  of  the  Idylls.  But,  for  my  part,  I 
cannot  regard  this  as  a  very  serious  charge.  The  Vikings 
is  the  work  of  a  man  still  young  (29),  who  had,  moreover, 
developed  very  slowly.  It  is  still  steeped  in  romanticism, 
though  not  in  the  almost  boyish  lyricism  of  its  predeces- 
sors. The  poet  is  not  yet  intellectually  mature — very  far 
from  it.  But  here,  for  the  first  time,  we  are  unmistak- 
ably face  to  face  with  a  great  imagination  and  a  specifi- 
cally dramatic  endowment  of  the  first  order.  The  germs 
of  promise  discernible  in  Lady  Inger  have  ripened  into 
rare  technical  mastery. 

Ibsen  was  doubtless  right  in  feeling  that  the  super- 
human figures  of  the  mythical  sagas  were  impossible  on 
the  non-musical  stage,  just  as  Wagner  was  right  in  feeling 
that  the  world  of  myth  could  be  embodied  only  in  an 
atmosphere  of  music.  The  reduction,  then,  of  the  Vol- 
sungs  and  Niblungs  to  the  stature  of  the  men  of  the  family- 
sagas  was  not  only  judicious,  but  necessary.  But  was 
it  judicious  to  go  to  the  myth-sagas  for  the  initial  idea  of 
a  play  which  had  to  be  developed  in  terms  of  the  family- 
sagas  ?     Scarcely,  I  think.     The  weak  points  in  the  struc- 


INTRODUCTION  13 

ture  of  the  story  are  precisely  those  at  which  the  poet  has 
had  to  replace  supernatural  by  natural  machinery.     To 
slay  a  dragon  and  to  break  through  a  wall  of  fire,  even 
with  magical  aid,  are  exploits  which  we  can  accept,  on 
the  mythic  plane,  as  truly  stupendous.     But  it  is  im- 
possible to  be  really  impressed  by  the  slaying  of  Hiordis's 
bear,  or  to  share  in  the  breathless  admiration  with  which 
that  achievement  is  always  mentioned.     If  the  bear  is  to 
be  regarded  as  a  fabulous  monster,  i,t  might  just  as  well  be 
a  dragon  at  once;  if  it  is  to  be  accepted  as  a  real  quad- 
ruped, the  killing  of  it  is  no  such  mighty  matter.     We  feel 
it,  in  fact,  to  be  a  mere  substitute,  a  more  or  less  ludicrous 
makeshift.     And  in  the  same  way,  Sigurd's  renunciation 
of  Hiordis  becomes  very  difficult  to  accept  when  all  super- 
natural agency— magic  potion,  or  other  sleight  of  wiz- 
ardy— is  eliminated.     We  feel  that  he  behaves  like  a 
nincompoop  in  despairing  of  winning  her  for  himself, 
merely  because  she  does  not  show  an  obviously  "coming 
on"  disposition,  and  like  an  immoral  sentimentalist  in 
handing  her  over  to  Gunnar.     This,  to  be  sure,  is  the 
pod's  own  criticism  of  his  action.     The  lie  which  Sigurd 
and  Gunnar  conspire  to  tell,  or  rather  to  enact,  is  the  root 
of  the  whole  tragedy.     We  have  here  Ibsen's  first  treat- 
ment of  the  theme  with  which  he  is  afterwards  so  much 
concerned— the  necessity  of  truth  as  the  basis  of  every 
human    relation.     Gunnar's    acquiescence    in    Sigurd's 
heroic  mendacity  is  as  clearly  condemned  and  punished, 
as,  in  Pillars  of  Society,  Bernick's  acquiescence  in  Johan's 
almost  equally  heroic  self-sacrifice.     Both  plays  convey  a 
warning  against  excesses  of  altruism,  and  show  that  we 
have  ho  right  to  offer  sacrifices  which  the  person  benefit- 


14  THE   VIKINGS   AT   HELGELAND 

ing  by  them  has  no  right  to  accept.  But  to  indicate  a 
correct  moral  judgment  of  Sigurd's  action  is  not  to  make 
it  psychologically  plausible.  We  feel,  I  repeat,  that  the 
poet  is  trying  in  vain  to  rationalise  a  series  of  actions 
which  are  comprehensible  only  on  the  supernatural  plane. 

This  unreality  of  plot  involved  a  similar  unreality,  or 
at  any  rate  extreme  simplicity,  of  characterisation.  All 
the  personages  are  drawn  in  large,  obvious  traits,  which 
never  undergo  the  smallest  modification.  Sigurd  is 
throughout  the  magnanimous  hero,  Dagny  the  submis- 
sive, amiable  wife,  Hiordis  the  valkyrie-virago,  Gunnar 
the  well-meaning  weakling,  not  cowardly  but  inefficient. 
By  far  the  most  human  and  most  individual  figure  is  old 
Ornulf,  in  whom  the  spirit  of  the  family-sagas  is  mag-' 
nificently  incarnated.  We  feel  throughout  the  inexperi- 
ence of  the  author,  his  incuriousness  of  half-tones  in  char- 
acter, his  tendency  to  view  human  relations  and  problems 
in  a  purely  sentimental  light.  To  compare  Hiordis  with 
Hedda  Gabler,  Sigurd  with  Halvard  Solness,  is  to  realise 
what  an  immeasurable  process  of  evolution  the  poet  was 
destined  to  go  through.  Indeed,  we  as  yet  seem  far 
enough  off  even  from  Duke  Skule  and  Bishop  Nicholas. 

But  the  man  of  inventive  imagination  and  the  man  of 
the  theatre  are  already  here  in  all  their  strength.  What- 
ever motives  and  suggestions  Ibsen  found  in  the  sagas, 
the  construction  of  the  play  is  all  his  own  and  is  quite 
masterly.  Exposition,  development,  the  carrying  on  of 
the  interest  from  act  to  act — all  this  is  perfect  in  its  kind. 
The  play  is  "well-made  "  in  the  highest  sense  of  the  word. 
Already  the  poet  shows  himself  consummate  in  his  art 
of  gradually  lifting  veil  after  veil  from  the  past,  and  mak- 


INTRODUCTION  15 

thg  each  new  discovery  involve  a  more  or  less  striking 
change  in  the  relations  of  the  persons  on  the  stage.     But 
it  is  not  technically  alone  that  the  play  is  great.     The 
whole  second  act  is  a  superbly  designed  and  modulated 
piece  of  drama;  and,  for  pure  nobility  and  pathos,  the 
scene  of  Ornulf's  return— entirely  of  the  poet's  own  in- 
vention—is surely  one  of  the  greatest  things  in  dramatic 
literature.     It  is  marvellous  that  even  aesthetic  prejudice 
should  have  prevented  a  man  like  J.  L.  Heiberg  from  rec- 
ognising that  he  was  here  in  presence  of  a  great  poet. 
The  interest  of  the  third  act  is  mainly  psychological,  and 
the  psychology,  as  we  have  seen,  is  neither  very  profound 
nor  very  convincing.     But  the  fourth  act,  again,  rises  to 
a  great  height  of  romantic  impressiveness.     Whatever 
hints  may  have  come  from  the  sagas,  the  picture  of  Or- 
nulf's effort  cf  self-mastery  is  a  very  noble  piece  of  work; 
and  the  plunge  into  supernaturalism  at  the  close,  in  the 
child's  vision  of  Asgardsreien,  with  his  mother  leading  the 
rout,  seems  to  me  an  entirely  justified  piece  of  imaginative 
daring.     I  cannot  even  agree  with  Dr.  Brandes  in  con- 
demning as  "  Geheimniskramerei "  Sigurd's  dying  revela- 
tion of  the  fact  that  he  is  a  Christian.     It  seems  to  me  to 
harmonise  entirely  with  the  whole  sentimental  colouring 
of  the  play.     The  worst  flaws  I  find  in  this  act  are  the 
terrible  asides  placed  in  the  mouths  of  Gunnar  and  Dagny 
after  the  discovery  of  Sigurd's  death. 

The  word  Vikings  in  the  title  is  a  very  free  rendering 
of  Hwrmwndene,  which  simply  means  "warriors."  As 
"warriors,"  however,  is  a  colourless  word,  and  as  Or- 
nulf,  Sigurd,  and  Gunnar  all  are,  or  have  been,  actually 


16  THE   VIKINGS   AT  HELGELAND 

vikings,  the  substitution  seemed  justifiable.  I  would 
beg,  however  hopelessly,  that  "viking"  should , be  pro- 
nounced so  as  to  rhyme  not  with  "liking"  but  with 
"seeking,"  or  at  worst  with  "kicking."  Helgeland,  it 
may  be  mentioned,  is  a  province  or  district  in  the  north 
of  Norway. 

Ornulf's  "drapa"  and  his  snatches  of  verse  are 
rhymed  as  well  as  alliterated  in  the  original.  I  had  the 
less  hesitation  in  suppressing  the  rhyme,  as  it  was  actually 
foreign  to  the  practice  of  the  skalds. 


THE   VIKINGS  AT  HELGELAND 

(1858) 


CHARACTERS 

Ornulf  of  the  Fiords,  an  Icelandic  Chieftain. 
Sigurd  the  Strong,  a  Sea-King. 
\/  Gunnar  Headman,1  a  rich  yeoman  of  Helgeland. 
Thorolf,  Ornulf  s  youngest  son. 
Dagny,  Ornulf's  daughter. 
Hiordis,  his  foster-daughter. 
Kare  the  Peasant,  a  Helgeland-man. 
Egil,  Gunnar's  son,  four  years  old. 
Ornulf's  six  older  Sons. 
Ornulf's  and  Sigurd's  Men. 
Guests,  house-carls,  seriying-maids,  outlaws,  etc. 


The  action  takes  place  in  the  time  of  Erik  Blood-axe  (about 
933  a.d.)  at,  and  in  the  neighbourJwod  of,  Gunnar's  Iwuse,  on  the 
island  of  Helgeland,  in  the  north  of  Norway. 

Pronunciation  of  Names:  Helgeland  =Helgheland;  Ornulf  = 
Ornoolf;  Sigurd  =  Sigoord;  Gunnar  =  Goonnar;  Thorolf  = 
Toorolf;  Hiordis  =  Yordeess;  Kare  =  Koare;  Egil  =  Ayghil. 
The  letter  "o"  as  in  German. 

1  Failing  to  find  a  better  equivalent  for  the  Norwegian  "Herse," 
I  have  used  the  word  "Headman"  wherever  it  seemed  necessary  to 
give  Gunnar  a  title  or  designation.  He  is  generally  spoken  of  as 
"Gunnar  Herse"  in  the  Norwegian  text;  but  where  it  could  be  done 
without  inconvenience,  the  designation  has  here  been  omitted. 


THE  VIKINGS  AT  HELGELAND 

PLAY   IN   FOUR  ACTS 


ACT   FIRST 


A  rocky  coast,  running  precipitously  down  to  the  sea 
at  the  back.  To  the  left,  a  boat-house;  to  the  right, 
rocks  and  pine  woods.  Tlie  masts  of  two  warships 
can  be  seen  down  in  the  cove.  Far  out  to  the  rigid, 
the  sea,  dotted  with  reefs  and  skerries,  on  which  the 
surf  is  running  high;  it  is  a  stormy  snow-grey  win- 
ter-day. 

Sigurd  comes  up  from  tfie  ships;  he  is  clad  in  a  white 
tunic  i rill,  a  silver  belt,  a  blue  cloak,  cross-gartered  hose, 
unt  aimed  brogues,  and  a  steel  cap;  at  his  side  hangs 
a  short  sword.  Ornulf  comes  in  sight  immediately 
afterwords,  high  up  among  the  rocks,  clad  in  a  dark 
lambskin  tunic  with  a  breastplate  and  greaves,  wool- 
len stockings,  and  unianned  brogues  ;  over  his  shoul- 
ders he  has  a  cloak  of  brown  frieze,  with  the  hood  drawn 
over  his  steel  cap,  so  that  his  face  is  partly  hidden. 
He  is  very  tall  and  massively  built,  with  a  long  white 
beard,  but  is  somewhat  bowed  by  age;  his  weapons 
nrr  a  round  shield,  sword,  and  spear. 

Sigurd  enters  first,  looks  around,  sees  the  boat-shed,  goes 
quickly  up  to  it,  and  tries  to  burst  open  the  door. 
19 


20  THE  VIKINGS   AT  HELGELAND     [act  i 

Ornulf.  . 

[Appears  among  the  rocks,  starts  on  seeing  Sigurd, 
seems  to  recognise  him,  descends  and  cries:]  Give  place, 
Viking ! 

Sigurd. 

[Turns,  lays  his  hand  on  his  sword,  and  answers:] 
'Twere  the  first  time  if  I  did! 

Ornulf. 

Thou  shalt  and  must!  I  need  the  shelter  for  my  stiff- 
frozen  men. 

Sigurd. 

And  I  for  a  weary  woman! 

Ornulf. 
My  men  are  worth  more  than  thy  women! 

Sigurd. 
Then  must  outlaws  be  highly  prized  in  Helgeland! 

Ornulf. 
[Raising  his  spear.]    Thou  shalt  pay  dear  for  that  word ! 

Sigurd. 

[Drawing  his  sword.]  Now  will  it  go  ill  with  thee,  old 
man! 

[Ornulf  rushes  upon  him;  Sigurd  defends  himself. 

Dagny  and  some  of  Sigurd's  men  come  up  from  the 
strand;  Ornulf's  six  sons  appear  on  the  rocks  to 
the  right. 


act  i]     THE   VIKINGS   AT  HELGELAND  21 

Dagny. 
[Who  is  a  little  in  front,  clad  in  a  red  kirtle,  blue  cloak, 
and  fur  hood,  calls  down  to  the  ships:]     Up,  all  Sigurd's 
men!     My  husband  is  fighting  with  a  stranger! 

Ornulf's  Sons. 
Help!     Help  for  our  father!  [They  descend. 

Sigurd. 
[To  his  men.]     Hold!     I  can  master  him  alone! 

Ornulf. 

[To  his  sons.]     Let  me  fight  in  peace!     [Ruslies  in 
upon  Sigurd.]     I  will  see  thy  blood! 

Sigurd 
First  see  thine  own! 

[Wounds  him  in  the  arm  so  that  his  spear  falls. 

Ornulf. 
A  stout  stroke,  Viking! 

Swift  the  sword  thou  swingest, 
keen  thy  blows  and  biting; 
Sigurd's  self,  the  Stalwart, 
stood  before  thee  shame-struck. 

Sigurd. 
[Smiling.]    Then  were  his  shame  his  glory! 

Ornulf's  Sons. 

[WUh  aery  of  wonder.]     Sigurd  himself!     Sigurd  the 
Mrong ! 


22  THE   VIKINGS   AT  HELGELAND     [act  i 

Ornulf. 

But  sharper  was  thy  stroke  that  night  thou  didst 
bear  away  Dagny,  my  daughter. 

[Casts  Ids  hood  back. 

Sigurd  and  his  Men. 
Ornulf  of  the  Fiords! 

Dagny. 

[Glad,  yet  uneasy.]     My  father  and  my  brothers! 

Sigurd. 
Stand  thou  behind  me. 

Ornulf. 

Nay,  no  need.  [Approaching  Sigurd.]  I  no  sooner 
saw  thee  than  I  knew  thee,  and  therefore  I  stirred  the 
strife;  I  was  fain  to  prove  the  fame  that  tells  of  thee  as 
the  stoutest  man  of  his  hands  in  Norway.  Hereafter 
let  peace  be  between  us. 

Sigurd. 
Best  if  so  it  could  be. 

Ornulf. 

Here  is  my  hand.  Thou  art  a  warrior  indeed ;  stouter 
strokes  than  these  has  old  Ornulf  never  given  or  taken. 

Sigurd. 

[Seizes  his  outstretched  hand.]  Let  them  be  the  last 
strokes  given  and  taken  between  us  two;  and  be  thou 
thyself  the  judge  in  the  matter  between  us.    Art  willing  ? 


act  i]     THE   VIKINGS   AT  HELGELAND  23 

Ornulf. 

That  am  I,  and  straightway  shall  the  quarrel  be 
healed.  [To  tlie  others.]  Be  the  matter,  then,  known  to 
ill.  Five  winters  ago  came  Sigurd  and  Gunnar  Head- 
man as  vikings  to  Iceland;  they  lay  in  harbour  close 
under  my  homestead.  Then  Gunnar,  by  force  and  craft, 
carried  away  my  foster-daughter,  Hiordis;  but  thou, 
Sigurd,  didst  take  Dagny,  my  own  child,  and  sailed  with 
her  over  the  sea.  For  that  I  now  doom  thee  to  pay 
three  hundred  pieces  of  silver,  and  thereby  shall  thy 
misdeed  be  atoned. 

Sigurd. 

Fair  is  thy  judgment,  Ornulf;  the  three  hundred  pieces 
will  I  pay,  and  add  thereto  a  silken  cloak  fringed  with 
gold.  'Tis  a  gift  from  King  iEthelstan  of  England,  and 
better  has  no  Icelander  yet  borne. 

Dagny. 

Well  said,  my  brave  husband;  and  my  father,  I 
thank  thee.     Now  at  last  is  my  mind  at  ease. 

[She  presses  Iter  fatfier's  and  brothers'  hands,  and 
talks  low  to  them. 

Ornulf. 
Then  thus  stands  the  troth  between  us;    and  from 
'his  day  shall  Dagny  be  to  the  full  as  honourably  regarded 
H  though  she  had  been  lawfully  betrothed  to  thee,  with 
the  good  will  of  her  kin. 

Sigurd. 

And  in  me  canst  thou  trust,  as  in  one  of  thine  own 
olood. 


24  THE  VIKINGS   AT  HELGELAND     [act  i 

Ornulf. 

That  I  doubt  not,  and  will  forthwith  prove  thy  friend- 
ship. 

Sigurd. 

Ready  shalt  thou  find  me;  say,  what  dost  thou  crave? 

Ornulf. 

Thy  help  in  rede  and  deed.  I  have  sailed  hither  to 
Helgeland  to  seek  out  Gunnar  Headman  and  call  him  to 
account  for  the  carrying  away  of  Hiordis. 

Sigurd. 
[Surprised.]     Gunnar! 

Dagny. 
[In  the  same  tone.]     And  Hiordis — where  are  they? 

Ornulf. 
In  Gunnar's  homestead,  I  trow. 

Sigurd. 
And  it  is ? 

Ornulf. 
Not  many  bow-shots  hence;   did  ye  not  know? 

Sigurd. 

[With  suppressed  emotion.]  No,  truly!  I  have  had 
scant  tidings  of  Gunnar  since  we  sailed  from   Iceland 


act  i]     THE   VIKINGS   AT  HELGELAND  25 

together.  While  I  have  wandered  far  and  wide  and 
served  many  outland  kings,  Gunnar  has  stayed  at 
home.  We  made  the  land  here  at  daydawn,  storm- 
driven.  I  knew,  indeed,  that  Gunnar's  homestead  lay 
here  in  the  north,  but 

Dagny. 

[To  Ornulf.]  So  that  errand  has  brought  thee 
hither? 

Ornulf. 

That  and  no  other.  [To  Sigurd.]  Our  meeting  is 
the  work  of  the  Mighty  Ones  above;  they  willed  it  so. 
Had  I  wished  to  find  thee,  little  knew  I  where  to  seek. 

Sigurd. 

[Thoughtfully.]  True,  true!— But  concerning  Gun- 
nar—tell  me,  Ornulf,  art  thou  minded  to  go  sharply  to 
work,  with  all  thy  might,  be  it  for  good  or  ill  ? 

Ornulf. 

That  must  I.  Listen,  Sigurd,  for  thus  it  stands: 
Last  summer  I  rode  to  the  Council  where  many  hon- 
ourable men  were  met.  When  the  Council-days  were 
over,  I  sat  in  the  hall  and  drank  with  the  men  of 
my   shire,    and    the   talk   fell    upon   the  carrying-away 

»the  women;  scornful  words  they  gave  me,  because 
all  these  years  I  had  let  that  wrong  rest  unavenged, 
en,  in  my  wrath,  I  swore  to  sail  to  Norway,  seek 
out  Gunnar,  and  crave  reckoning  or  revenge,  and  never 
again  to  set  foot  in  Iceland  till  my  claim  was  made 
eood. 


26  THE   VIKINGS   AT   HELGELAND     [act  i 

Sigurd. 

Ay,  ay,  since  so  it  stands,  I  see  well  that  if  need  be  the 
matter  must  be  pressed  home. 

Ornulf. 

It  must;  but  I  shall  not  crave  overmuch,  and  Gunnar 
has  the  fame  of  an  honourable  man.  I  am  glad,  too, 
that  I  set  forth  on  this  quest;  the  time  lay  heavy  on  me 
in  Iceland;  out  upon  the  blue  waters  had  I  grown  old 
and  grey,  and  meseemed  that  I   must  fare  forth  once 

again  before  I ;  well  well — Bergthora,  my  good  wife, 

was  dead  these  many  years;  my  elder  sons  sailed  on 
viking- ventures  summer  by  summer;  and  since  Thorolf 
was  growing  up 

Dagny. 

[Joyfully.]     Thorolf  is  with  thee  ?     Where  is  he  ? 

Ornulf. 

On  board  the  ship.  [Points  towards  the  background, 
to  the  right.]  Scarce  shalt  thou  know  the  boy  again, 
so  stout  and  strong  and  fair  has  he  grown.  He  will  be  a 
mighty  warrior,  Sigurd;   one  day  he  will  equal  thee. 

Dagny. 

[Smiling.]  I  see  it  is  now  as  ever:  Thorolf  stands 
nearest  thy  heart. 

Ornulf. 

He  is  the  youngest,  and  like  his  mother;  therefore 
it  is. 


act  i]     THE   VIKINGS   AT  HELGELAND  27 

Sigurd. 

But  tell  me — thy  errand  to  Gunnar — thinkest  thou 
to-day ? 

Ornulf. 

Rather  to-day  than  to-morrow.  Fair  amends  will 
content  me;  should  Gunnar  say  me  nay,  then  must  he 
abide  what  may  follow. 

Kare  the  Peasant  enters  hastily  from  tlie  right;  he 
is  clad  in  a  grey  frieze  cloak  and  low-lrrimmed  felt  hat; 
lie  carries  in  his  liand  a  broken  fence-rail. 

Kare. 
Well  met,  Vikings 

Ornulf. 
Vikings  are  seldom  well  met. 

Kare. 

If  ye  be  honourable  men,  ye  will  grant  me  refuge  among 
you;  Gunnar  Headman's  house-carls  are  hunting  me  to 
slay  me. 

Ornulf. 
Gunnar's  ? 

Sigurd. 
Then  hast  thou  done  him  some  wrong! 

Kare. 

I  have  done  myself  right.  Our  cattle  grazed  together 
upon  an  island,  hard  by  the  coast;  Gunnar's  men  carried 


28  THE   VIKINGS   AT   HELGELAND     [act  i 

off  my  best  oxen,  and  one  of  them  flouted  me  for  a  thrall. 
Then  I  raised  my  sword  against  him  and  slew  him. 

Ornulf. 
That  was  a  lawful  deed. 

Kare. 

But  this  morning  his  men  came  in  arms  against  me. 
By  good  hap  I  heard  of  their  coming,  and  fled;  but  my 
foemen  are  on  my  tracks,  and  short  shrift  can  I  look 
for  at  their  hands. 

Sigurd. 

Ill  can  I  believe  thee,  peasant!  In  bygone  days  I 
knew  Gunnar  as  I  know  myself,  and  this  I  wot,  that 
never  did  he  wrong  to  a  peaceful  man. 

Kare. 

Gunnar  has  no  part  in  this  wrong-doing;  he  is  in  the 
southland;    nay,  it  is  Hiordis  his  wife 

Dagny. 
Hiordis! 

Ornulf. 

[To  himself.]     Ay,  ay,  'tis  like  her! 

Kare. 

I  offered  Gunnar  amends  for  the  thrall,  and  he  was 
willing;  but  then  came  Hiordis,  and  egged  her  husband 
on  with  many  scornful  words,  and  hindered  the  peace. 
Since  then  has  Gunnar  gone  to  the  south,  and  to-day • 


act  i]     THE   VIKINGS   AT   HELGELAND  29 

Sigurd. 

[Looking  out  to  the  left.]     Here  comes  a  band  of  way- 
farers towards  the  north.     Is  it  not ? 

Kare. 
It  is  Gunnar  himself! 

Ornulf. 

Be  of  good  heart;    I  trow  I  can  make  peace  between 
you. 

Gunnar  Headman,  with  several  men,  enters  from  the 
left.  He  is  in  peaceful  attire,  wearing  a  brown  tunic, 
cross-gartered  hose,  a  blue  mantle,  and  a  broad  hat; 
he  has  no  weapon  but  a  small  axe. 

Gunnar. 

[Stops  in  surprise  and  uncertainty  on  seeing  the  knot 
of  men.]     Ornulf  of  the  Fiords!     Yes,  surely ! 


Thou  seest  aright. 


Ornulf. 


Gunnar. 


[Approaching.]     Then  peace  and  welcome  to  thee  in 
my  land,  if  thou  come  in  peace. 

Ornulf. 

If  thy  will  be  as  mine,  there  shall  be  no  strife  be- 
tween us. 

Sigurd. 
[Standing  forward.]     Well  met,  Gunnar! 


30  THE  VIKINGS   AT   HELGELAND     [act  i 

GUNNAR. 

[Gladly.]  Sigurd — foster-brother!  [Shakes  his  hand.] 
Now  truly,  since  thou  art  here,  I  know  that  Ornulf  comes 
in  peace.  [To  Ornulf.]  Give  me  thy  hand,  greybeard! 
Thy  errand  here  in  the  north  is  lightly  guessed:  it  con- 
cerns Hiordis,  thy  foster-daughter. 

Ornulf. 

As  thou  say  est;  great  wrong  was  done  me  when  thou 
didst  bear  her  away  from  Iceland  without  my  will. 

Gunnar. 

Thy  claim  is  rightful;  what  the  youth  has  marred, 
the  man  must  mend.  Long  have  I  looked  for  thee, 
Ornulf,  for  this  cause;  and  if  amends  content  thee,  we 
shall  soon  be  at  one. 

Sigurd. 
So  deem  I  too.     Ornulf  will  not  press  thee  over  hard. 

Gunnar. 

[Warmly.]  Nay,  Ornulf,  didst  thou  crave  her  full 
worth,  all  my  goods  were  not  enough! 

Ornulf. 

I  shall  go  by  law  and  usage,  be  sure  of  that.  But  now 
another  matter.  [Pointing  to  Kare.]  Seest  thou  yon- 
der man  ? 

Gunnar. 

Kare!  [To  Ornulf.]  Thou  kno west,  then,  that  there 
is  a  strife  between  us  ? 


act  i]    THE  VIKINGS  AT  HELGELAND  SI 

Ornulf. 

Thy  men  have  stolen  his  cattle,  and  theft  must   be 
atoned. 

Gunnar. 
Murder  no  less;   he  has  slain  my  thrall. 

Kare. 
Because  he  flouted  me. 

Gunnar. 
I  have  offered  thee  terms  of  peace. 

Kare. 

But  Hiordis  had  no  mind  to  that,  and  this  morning, 
whilst  thou  wert  gone,  she  fell  upon  me  and  now  hunts 
me  to  my  death. 

Gunnar. 
[Angrily,]     Sayest  thou  true?     Has  she ? 

Kare. 

True,  every  word. 


() 


RNULF. 


Therefore  the  peasant  besought  me  to  stand  by  him, 
and  that  will  I  do. 

Gunnar. 

[After  a  moment's  thought.]     Thou   hast  dealt  hon- 
ourably with  me,  Ornulf;  therefore  it  is  fit  that  I  should 


32  THE  VIKINGS   AT   HELGELAND     [act  i 

yield  to  thy  will.  Hear  then,  Kare:  I  am  willing  to  let 
the  slaying  of  the  thrall  and  the  wrongs  done  toward  thee 
quit  each  other. 

Kare. 

[Gives  Gunnar  his  hand.]     It  is  a  good  offer;    I  am 
content. 

Ornulf. 

And  he  shall  have  peace  for  thee  and  thine? 

Gunnar. 

Peace  shall  he  have,  both  at  home  and  wheresoever 
he  may  go. 

Sigurd. 

[Pointing  to  the  right.]     See  yonder! 

Gunnar. 
[Disturbed.]     It  is  Hiordis! 

Ornulf. 
With  armed  men! 

Kare. 

She  is  seeking  me! 

Hiordis  enters,  with  a  troop  of  house-carls.  She  is  clad 
in  black,  wearing  a  kirtle,  cloak,  and  hood;  tfie  men  are 
armed  with  swords  and  axes;  she  herself  carries  a 
light  spear. 

Hiordis. 

[Stops  on  entering.]     We  meet  here  in  force,  meseems. 


act  i]    THE  VIKINGS  AT  HELGELAND  83 

Dagny. 

[RusJies  to  meet  her.]     Peace  and  joy  to  thee,  Hiordis! 

Hiordis. 

[Coldly.]  I  thank  thee.— 'Twas  told  me  thou  wert 
not  far  off.  [Comes  forward,  looking  sharply  at  those 
assembled.]     Gunnar,   and— Kare,   my  foeman— Ornulf 

and  his  sons,  and [As  sJie  catches  sight  of  Sigurd, 

site  starts  almost  imperceptibly,  is  silent  a  moment,  but 
collects  herself  and  says:]     Many  I  see  here  who   are 

J  known  to  me— but  little  I  know  who  is  best  minded  tow- 

i  ards  me. 

Ornulf.  . 

We  are  all  well-minded  towards  thee. 

Hiordis. 

If  so  be,  thou  wilt  not  deny  to  give  Kare  into  my  hus- 
band's hands. 

Ornulf. 
There  is  no  need. 

Gunnar. 
There  is  peace  and  friendship  between  us. 

Hiordis. 

[With  suppressed  scorn.]  Friendship?  Well  well,  I 
know  thou  art  a  wise  man,  Gunnar!  Kare  has  found 
mighty  friends,  and  doubtless  thou  deem'st  it  safest 

Gunnar. 

Thy  taunts  avail  not!  [With  dignity.]  Kare  is  at 
peace  for  us! 


34  THE  VIKINGS   AT   HELGELAND     [act  i 

HlORDIS. 

[Restraining  herself.]  Well  and  good;  if  thou  hast 
sworn  him  peace,  the  vow  must  be  held. 

Gunnar. 
[Forcibly,  but  without  anger.]     It  must  and  it  shall. 

Ornulf. 

[To  Hiordis.]  Another  pact  had  been  well-nigh  made 
ere  thy  coming. 

Hiordis. 

[Sharply.]     Between  thee  and  Gunnar? 

Ornulf. 
[Nods.]     It  had  to  do  with  thee. 

Hiordis. 

Well  can  I  guess  what  it  had  to  do  with;  but  this  I 
tell  thee,  foster-father,  never  shall  it  be  said  that  Gunnar 
let  himself  be  cowed  because  thou  earnest  in  arms  to  the 
isle.  Hadst  thou  come  alone,  a  single  wayfarer,  to  our 
hall,  the  quarrel  had  more  easily  been  healed. 

Gunnar. 
Ornulf  and  his  sons  come  in  peace. 

Hiordis. 

Mayhap;  but  will  it  sound  otherwise  in  the  mouths 
of  men;  and  thou  thyself,  Gunnar,  didst  show  scant  trust 
in  the  peace  yesterday,  in  sending  our  son  Egil  to  the 


act  i]     THE   VIKINGS   AT   HELGELAND  35 

southland  so  soon  as  it  was  told  us  that  Ornulf's  war- 
ip  lay  in  the  fiord. 

Sigurd. 

[To  Gunnar.]     Didst  thou  send  thy  son  to  the  south  ? 

Hiordis. 

Ay,  that  he  might   be  in  safety  should   Ornulf  fall 
upon  us. 

Ornulf. 

Scoff  not  at  that,  Hiordis;  what  Gunnar  has  done  may 
I   prove  wise  in  the  end,  if  so  be  thou  hinder  the  pact. 

Hiordis. 

Life  must  take  its  chance;    come  what  will,  I  had 
liever  die  than  save  my  life  by  a  shameful  pact. 

Dagny. 

Sigurd  makes  atonement,  and  will  not  be  deemed  the 
l  lesser  man  for  that. 

Hiordis. 
Sigurd  best  knows  what  his  own  honour  can  bear. 

Sigurd. 
On  that  score  shall  I  never  need  reminding. 

Hiordis. 

Sigurd   has  done  famous  deeds,  but  bolder  than  all 
!  was  Gunnar's  deed,  when  he  slew  the  white  bear  that 
guarded  my  bower. 


36  THE  VIKINGS   AT   HELGELAND     [act  i 

GuNNAR. 

[With  an  embarrassed  glance  at  Sigurd.]  Nay,  nay, 
no  more  of  that! 

Ornulf. 

In  truth  it  was  the  boldest  deed  that  e'er  was  seen  in 
Iceland;    and  therefore 

Sigurd. 

The  more  easily  can  Gunnar  yield,  and  ne'er  be  held 
>  faint-hearted. 

Hiordis. 

If  amends  are  to  be  made,  amends  shall  be  craved  as 
well.     Bethink  thee,  Gunnar,  of  thy  vow! 

Gunnar. 
That  vow  was  ill  bethought;   wilt  thou  hold  me  to  it? 

Hiordis. 

That  will  I,  if  we  two  are  to  dwell  under  one  roof  after 
this  day.  Know  then,  Ornulf,  that  if  atonement  is  to  be 
made  for  the  carrying  away  of  thy  foster-daughter,  thou, 
too,  must  atone  for  the  slaying  of  Jokul  my  father,  and 
the  seizing  of  all  his  goods  and  gear. 

Ornulf. 

Jokul  was  slain  in  fair  fight;1  thy  kinsmen  did  me 
a  worse  wrong    when   they    sent    thee  to   Iceland  and 

1  "I  serlig  holmgang."  The  established  form  of  duel  in  the  viking 
times  was  to  land  the  combatants  on  one  of  the  rocky  islets  or 
"holms"  that  stud  the  Norwegian  coast,  and  there  let  them  fight  it 
out.     Hence  "holmgang"  =  duel. 


act  i]     THE  VIKINGS   AT  HELCxELAND  37 

beguiled  me  into  adopting1  thee,  unwitting  who  thou 
wert. 

Hiordis. 

Honour,  and  no  wrong,  was  thy  lot  in  fostering  Jokul's 
daughter. 

Ornulf. 
Nought  but  strife  hast  thou  brought  me,  that  I  know. 

Hiordis. 
Sterner  strife  may  be  at  hand,  if 

Ornulf. 

I  came  not  hither  to  bandy  words  with  women! — 
Gunnar,  hear  my  last  word:  art  willing  to  make  atone- 
ment ? 

Hiordis. 
[To  Gunnar.]     Think  of  thy  vow! 

Gunnar. 

[To  Ornulf.]  Thou  hearest,  I  have  sworn  a  vow, 
and  that  must  I 

Ornulf. 

[Irritated.]  Enough,  enough!  Never  shall  it  be  said 
that  I  made  atonement  for  slaying  in  fair  fight. 

Hiordis. 
[Forcibly.]     Then  we  defy  thee  and  thine. 

1  "At  kmesaotte  "  =  to  knee-set  a  cnild,  to  take  it  on  one'B  knee, 
an  irrevocable  form  of  adoption. 


38  THE  VIKINGS   AT  HELGELAND     [act  i 

Ornulf. 

[In  rising  wrath.]  And  who  has  the  right  to  crave 
atonement  for  Jokul  ?  Where  are  his  kinsmen  ?  There 
is  none  alive!     Where  is  his  lawful  avenger? 

Hiordis. 
That  is  Gunnar,  on  my  behalf. 

Ornulf. 

Gunnar!  Ay,  hadst  thou  been  betrothed  to  him  with 
thy  foster-father's  good- will,  or  had  he  made  atonement 
for  carrying  thee  away,  then  were  he  thy  father's  lawful 
avenger;   but 

Dagny. 

[Apprehensive  and  imploring.]     Father,  father! 

Sigurd. 
[Quickly.]     Speak  it  not! 

Ornulf. 

[Raising  his  voice.]  Nay,  loudly  shall  it  be  spoken! 
A  woman  wedded   by  force  has   no   lawful   husband! 

Gunnar. 

[Vehemently.]     Ornulf! 

Hiordis. 

[In  a  wild  outburst.]  Flouted  and  shamed!  [In  a 
quivering  voice.]     This — this  shalt  thou  come  to  rue! 


act  i]     THE  VIKINGS   AT   HELGELAND  39 

Ornulf. 

[Continuing.]  A  woman  wedded  by  force  is  in  law 
no  more  than  a  leman!  Wilt  thou  regain  thine  honour, 
then  must  thou 

Hiordis. 

[Controlling  Iwrself.]  Nay,  Ornulf,  I  know  better 
what  is  fitting.  If  I  am  to  be  held  as  Gunnar's  leman 
—well  and  good,  then  must  he  win  me  honour  by  his 
deeds— by  deeds  so  mighty  that  my  shame  shall  be 
shame  no  more!  And  thou,  Ornulf,  beware!  Here 
our  ways  part,  and  from  this  day  shall  I  make  war  at 
all  times  upon  thee  and  thine;  thou  shalt  know  no  safety 

for  life  or  limb,  thou,  nor  any  whom  thou [Looking 

fiercely  at  KAre.]  Kare!  Ornulf  has  stood  thy  friend, 
forsooth,  and  there  is  peace  between  us;  but  I  counsel 
thee  not  to  seek  thy  home  yet  awhile;    the  man  thou 

slewest  has  many  avengers,  and  it  well  might  befall 

See,  I  have  shown  thee  the  danger;  thou  must  e'en 
take  what  follows.  Come,  Gunnar,  we  must  gird  our- 
selves for  the  fight.  A  famous  deed  didst  thou  do  in 
Iceland,  but  greater  deeds  must  be  done  here,  if  thou 
wouldst  not  have  thy— thy  leman  shrink  with  shame 
from  thee  and  from  herself! 

Gunnar. 

Curb  thyself,  Hiordis;    it  is  unseemly  to  bear  thee 
thus! 

Dagny. 

[Imploringly.]     Stay,    foster-sister— stay;     I    will    ap- 
pease my  father. 


40  THE   VIKINGS   AT   HELGELAND     [act  i 

HlORDIS. 

[Without  listening  to  her.]  Homewards,  homewards! 
Who  could  have  foretold  me  that  I  should  wear  out  my 
life  as  a  worthless  leman  ?  But  if  I  am  to  bear  this  life 
of  shame,  ay,  even  for  one  day  more,  then  must  my  hus- 
band do  such  a  deed — such  a  deed  as  shall  make  his 
name  more  famous  than  all  other  names  of  men. 

[Goes  out  to  the  rigid. 

GUNNAR. 

[Softly.]  Sigurd,  promise  me  this,  that  we  shall  have 
speech  together  ere  thou  leave  the  land. 

\Goes  out  with  his  men  to  the  right. 

[The  storm  has  meanwhile  ceased;  the  midday  sun 
is  now  visible,  like  a  red  disc,  low  upon  the  rim  of 
the  sea. 

Ornulf. 

[Threateningly.]  Thou  shalt  pay  dear  for  this  day's 
work,  foster-daughter!     - 

Dagny. 

Father,  father!     Surely  thou  wilt  not  harm  her! 

Ornulf. 

Let  me  be!  Now,  Sigurd,  now  can  no  amends  avail 
between  Gunnar  and  me. 

Sigurd. 
What  thinkest  thou  to  do  ? 


act  i]     THE   VIKINGS   AT  HELGELAND  41 

Ornulf. 
That  I  know  not;    but  far  and  wide  shall  the  tale  be 
told  how  Ornulf  of  the  Fiords  came  to  Gunnar's  hall. 

Sigurd. 
Wtih  quiet  determination.]     Maybe;    but  this  I  tell 
thee,  Ornulf,  thou  shalt  never  bear  arms  against  him  so 
long  as  I  am  alive. 

Ornulf. 
So,  so!     And  what  if  nought  else  be  my  will  ? 

Sigurd. 
It  shall  not  be— let  thy  will  be  never  so  strong. 

Ornulf. 

[Angrily.]  Go  then;  join  thou  with  my  foes;  I  dare 
outface  the  twain  of  you ! 

Sigurd. 

Hear  me  out,  Ornulf;  the  day  shall  never  dawn  that 
shall  see  thee  and  me  at  strife.  There  is  honourable 
peace  between  us,  Dagny  is  dearer  to  me  than  weapons 
or  gold,  and  never  shall  I  forget  that  thou  art  her  nearest 
kinsman. 

Ornulf^i 
There  I  know  thee  again,  brave  Sigurd! 

Sigurd. 

But  Gunnar  is  my  foster-brother;  we  have  sworn  each 
other  faith  and  friendship.     Both  in  war  and  peace  have 


42  THE   VIKINGS   AT   HELGELAND     [act  i 

we  faced  fortune  together,  and  of  all  men  he  is  dearest 
to  me.  Stout  though  he  be,  he  loves  not  war; — but  as 
for  me,  ye  know,  all  of  you,  that  I  shrink  not  from  strife; 
yet  here  I  stand  forth,  Ornulf,  and  pray  for  peace  on  Gun- 
nar's  behalf.     Let  me  have  my  will! 

Ornulf. 

I  cannot;  I  should  be  a  scoff  to  all  brave  men,  were  I 
to  fare  empty-handed  back  to  Iceland. 

Sigurd. 

Thou  shalt  not  fare  empty-handed.  Here  in  the 
cove  my  two  long-ships  are  lying,  with  all  the  wealth  I 
have  won  in  my  viking-ventures.  There  are  many 
costly  gifts  from  outland  kings,  good  weapons  by  the 
chestful,  and  other  priceless  chattels.  Take  thou  one  of 
the  ships;  choose  which  thou  wilt,  and  it  shall  be  thine 
with  all  it  contains — be  that  the  atonement  for  Hiordis, 
and  let  Gunnar  be  at  peace. 

Ornulf. 
Brave  Sigurd,  wilt  thou  do  this  for  Gunnar? 

Sigurd. 
For  a  faithful  friend,  no  man  can  do  too  much. 

Ornulf. 
Give  half  thy  goods  and  gear! 

Sigurd. 

[Urgently.]  Take  the  whole,  take  both  my  ships, 
take  all  that  is  mine,  and  let  me  fare  with  thee  to  Iceland 


act  i]     THE   VIKINGS   AT   HELGELAND  43 

as  the  poorest  man  in  thy  train.  What  I  give,  I  can 
win  once  more;  but  if  thou  and  Gunnar  come  to  strife, 
I  shall  never  see  a  glad  day  again.  Now,  Ornulf,  thy 
answer  ? 

Ornulf. 

[Refecting.]    Two  good  long-ships,  weapons,  and  other 

chattels — too  much  gear  can  no  man  have;    but 

[Vehemently.]  No,  no!  —  Hiordis  has  threatened  me; 
I  will  not!  I  were  dishonoured  should  I  take  thy 
goods ! 

Sigurd. 
Yet  listen 

Ornulf. 

No,  I  say!  I  must  fight  for  my  own  right,  be  my  for- 
tune what  it  may. 

Kare. 

[Approaching.]  Right  friendly  is  Sigurd's  rede,  but 
if  thou  wilt  indeed  fight  thine  own  battle  with  all  thy 
might,  I  can  counsel  thee  better.  Dream  not  of  atone- 
ment so  long  as  Hiordis  has  aught  to  say;  but  revenge 
can  be  thine  if  thou  wilt  hearken  to  me. 

Ornulf. 
Revenge  ?     What  dost  thou  counsel  ? 

Sigurd. 
Evil,  I  can  well  see! 

Dagnv. 

To  Ornulf.]     Oh,  do  not  hear  him! 


44  THE  VIKINGS   AT   HELGELAND     [act  i 

Kare. 

Hiordis  has  declared  me  an  outlaw;  she  will  set 
snares  for  my  life;  do  thou  swear  to  see  me  scatheless, 
and  this  night  will  I  burn  Gunnar's  hall  and  all  within 
it.     Is  that  to  thy  mind  ? 

Sigurd. 
Dastard ! 

Ornulf. 

[Quietly.]  To  my  mind  ?  Knowest  thou,  Kare, 
what  were  more  to  my  mind  ?  [In  a  voice  of  thunder.] 
To  hew  off  thy  nose  and  ears,  thou  vile  thrall.  Little 
dost  thou  know  old  Ornulf  if  thou  thinkest  to  have  his 
help  in  such  a  deed  of  shame! 

Kare. 

[Who  has  shrunk  backwards.]  If  thou  fall  not  upon 
Gunnar  he  will  surely  fall  upon  thee. 

Ornulf. 
Have  I  not  Weapons,  and  strength  to  wield  them  ? 

Sigurd. 

[To  Kare.]  And  now  away  with  thee !  Thy  presence 
is  a  shame  to  honourable  men! 

Kare. 

[Going  off.]  Well  well,  I  must  shift  for  myself  as  best 
I  may.  But  this  I  tell  you:  if  ye  think  to  deal  gently 
with  Hiordis,  ye  will  come  to  rue  it.  I  know  her — and  I 
know  where  to  strike  her  sorest! 

[Goes  down  towards  the  shore. 


MTTi]     THE   VIKINGS   AT  HELGELAND  45 

Dagny. 

He   is   hatching  some  revenge.     Sigurd,   it   must   be 
hindered ! 

Ornulf. 

[Angrily.]     Nay,  let  him  do  as  he  will;    she  is  worth 
no  better! 

Dagny. 

That  meanest  thou  not;  bethink  thee,  she  is  thy 
foster-child. 

Ornulf. 

Woe  worth  the  day  when  I  took  her  under  my  roof! 
Jokul's  words  begin  to  come  true. 

Sigurd. 
Jokul's  ? 

Ornulf. 

Ay,  her  father's.  When  I  gave  him  his  death-wound 
he  fell  back  upon  the  sward,  and  fixed  his  eyes  on  me 
and  sang: 

Jokul's  kin  for  Jokul's  slayer 
many  a  woe  shall  still  be  weaving; 
Jokul's  hoard  whoe'er  shall  harry 
thence  shall  harvest  little  gladness. 

When  he  had  sung  that,  he  was  silent  awhile,  and  laughed; 
and  thereupon  he  died. 

Sigurd. 
Why  should 'st  thou  heed  his  words  ? 


46  THE  VIKINGS  AT  HELGELAND     [act  1 

Ornulf. 

Who  knows  ?  The  story  goes,  and  many  believe  it, 
that  Jokul  gave  his  children  a  wolf's  heart  to  eat,  that 
they  might  be  fierce  and  fell;  and  Hiordis  has  surely 
had  her  share,  that  one  can  well  see.  [Breaks  off"  on 
looking  out  towards  the  right.]  Gunnar! — Do  we  two 
meet  again! 

Gunnar. 

[Enters.]  Ay,  Ornulf,  think  of  me  what  thou  wilt, 
but  I  cannot  part  from  thee  as  thy  foe. 

Ornulf. 
What  is  thy  purpose  ? 

Gunnar. 

To  hold  out  the  hand  of  peace  to  thee  ere  thou  depart. 
Hear  me  all  of  you:  go  with  me  to  my  homestead,  and 
be  my  guests  as  long  as  ye  will.  We  lack  not  meat  or 
drink  or  sleeping-room,  and  there  shall  be  no  talk  of  our 
quarrel  either  to-day  or  to-morrow. 

Sigurd. 
But  Hiordis ? 

Gunnar. 

Yields  to  my  will;  she  changed  her  thought  on  the 
homeward  way,  and  deemed,  as  I  did,  that  we  would 
soon  be  at  one  if  ye  would  but  be  our  guests. 

Dagny. 

Yes,  yes;   let  it  be  so. 

Sigurd. 
[Doubtfully.]     But  I  know  not  if 


act  i]     THE   VIKINGS   AT  HELGELAND  47 

Dagny. 

Gunnar  is  thy  foster-brother;    little  I  know  thee  if 
thou  say  him  nay. 

Gunnar. 

[To  Sigurd.]     Thou  hast  been  my  friend   where'er 
we  fared;  thou  wilt  not  thwart  me  now! 

Dagny. 

And  to  depart  from  the  land,  leaving  Hiordis  with  hate 
in  her  heart— no,  no,  that  must  we  not! 

Gunnar. 

I  have  done  Ornulf  a  great  wrong;    until  it  is  made 
good,  I  cannot  be  at  peace  with  myself. 

Sigurd. 
[VeJiemently.]     All  else  will  I  do  for  thee,   Gunnar, 
but   not  stay  here!     [Mastering  himself.]     I  am   King 
^Ethelstan's  sworn  henchman,  and  I  must  be  with  him 
in  England  ere  the  winter  is  out. 

Dagny. 

But  that  thou  canst  be,  none  the  less! 

Gunnar. 
No  man  can  know  what  lot  awaits  him;   mayhap  this 
is  our  last  meeting,  Sigurd,  and  thou  wilt  repent  that 
thou  didst  not  stand  by  me  to  the  end. 

Dagny. 

And  long  will  it  be  ere  thou  see  me  glad  again,  if  thou 
set  sail  to-dav. 


48  THE  VIKINGS   AT  HELGELAND     [act  i 

Sigurd. 

[Determined.]     Well,  be  it  so!     It  shall  be  as  ye  will, 

although But  no  more  of  that;  here  is  my  hand;  I 

will  stay  to  feast  with  thee  and  Hiordis. 

Gunnar. 

[Shakes  his  hand.]  I  knew  it,  Sigurd,  and  I  thank 
thee. — And  thou,  Ornulf,  say'st  thou  likewise  ? 

Ornulf. 

[Gruffly.]  I  shall  think  upon  it.  Bitterly  has  Hiordis 
galled  me;— I  will  not  answer  to-day. 

Gunnar. 

It  is  well,  old  warrior;  Sigurd  and  Dagny  will  know 
how  to  smooth  thy  brow.  Now  must  I  prepare  the 
feast;  peace  be  with  you  the  while,  and  well  met  in  my 
hall.  [Goes  out  by  tlie  rigid. 

Sigurd. 

[To  himself.]  Hiordis  has  changed  her  thought,  said 
he?     Little  he  knows  her;    I  rather  deem  that  she  is 

plotting [Interrupting  himself  and  turning   to   his 

men.]     Come,  follow  me  all  to  the  ships;   good  gifts  will 
I  choose  for  Gunnar  and  his  household. 

Dagny. 

Gifts  of  the  best  we  have.  And  thou,  father — thou 
shalt  have  no  peace  for  me  until  thou  yield  thee. 

[She  goes  with  Sigurd  and  his  men  down  towards  the 
shore  at  the  back. 


act  i]    THE  VIKINGS  AT  HELGELAND  49 

Ornulf. 
Yield  me?     Ay,  if  there  were  no  women-folk  in  Gun- 

nar  s  house,  then Oh,  if  I  but  knew  where  to  strike 

her!— Thorolf,  thou  here! 

Thorolf. 

[Who  has  entered  hastily.]     As  thou  seest.     Is  it  true 
that  thou  hast  met  with  Gunnar  ? 

Ornulf. 
Yes. 

Thorolf. 
And  art  at  strife  with  him  ? 

Ornulf. 
H'm— with  Hiordis,  at  least. 

Thorolf. 
Then  be  of  good  cheer;   soon  shalt  thou  be  avenged! 

Ornulf. 
Avenged  ?     Who  shall  avenge  me  ? 

Thorolf. 

Listen:     as  I  stood  on  board  the  ship,  there  came  a 
man  runn         with  a  staff  Jn  hJs  ^   ^  ^^  ^  ^ 

If  thou  be  of  Ornulf's  shipfolk,  then  greet  him  from 
Kare  the  Peasant,  and  say  that  now  will  I  avenge  the 
twam  of  us."  Thereupon  he  took  a  boat  and  rowed 
away,  saying  as  he  passed:  "Twenty  outlaws  are  at 
pven  in  the  fiord;  with  them  I  fare  southward,  and  ere 
eventide  shall  Hiordis  be  childless. 


50  THE   VIKINGS   AT   HELGELAND     [act  i 

Ornulf. 

He  said  that!     Ha,  now  I  understand;    Gunnar  has 
sent  his  son  away;   Kare  is  at  feud  with  him 

Thorolf. 
And  now  he  is  rowing  southward  to  slay  the  boy! 

Ornulf. 

[With  sudden  resolution.]     Up,  all!     That  booty  will 
we  fight  for! 

Thorolf. 
What  wilt  thou  do  ? 

Ornulf. 

Leave  that  to  me;   it  shall  be  I,  and  not  Kare,  that  will 
take  revenge! 

Thorolf. 
I  will  go  with  thee! 

Ornulf. 

Nay,  do  thou  follow  with  Sigurd  and  thy  sister  to 
Gunnar's  hall. 

Thorolf. 
Sigurd  ?     Is  he  in  the  isle  ? 

Ornulf. 

There  may'st  thou  see  his  warships;   we  are  at  on< 
do  thou  go  with  him. 

Thorolf. 
Among  thy  foes  ? 


act  i]     THE   VIKINGS   AT   HELGELAND  51 

Ornulf. 

Go  thou  to  the  feast.  Now  shall  Hiordis  learn  to 
know  old  Ornulf!  But  hark  thee,  Thorolf,  to  no  one 
must  thou  speak  of  what  I  purpose;  dost  hear?  to  no 
one! 

Thorolf. 
I  promise. 

Ornulf. 

[  Takes  his  hand  and  looks  at  him  affectionately.]  Fare- 
well then,  my  fair  boy;  bear  thee  in  courtly  wise  at  the 
feast-house,  that  I  may  have  honour  of  thee.  Beware 
of  idle  babbling;  but  what  thou  sayest,  let  it  be  keen  as 
a  sword.  Be  friendly  to  those  that  deal  with  thee  in 
friendly  wise;  but  if  thou  be  taunted,  hold  not  thy  peace. 
Drink  not  more  than  thou  canst  bear;  but  put  not  the 
horn  aside  when  it  is  offered  thee  in  measure,  lest  thou 
be  deemed  womanish. 

Thorolf. 
Nay,  be  at  ease! 

Ornulf. 

Then  away  to  the  feast  at  Gunnar's  hall.  I  too  will 
come  to  the  feast,  and  that  in  the  guise  they  least  think 
of.  [Blithely  to  the  rest.]  Come,  my  wolf-cubs;  be  your 
fangs  keen;— now  shall  ye  have  blood  to  drink. 

[He  goes  off  with  his  elder  sons  to  the  right,  at  the 
back. 

Sigurd  and  Dagny  come  up  from  the  ships,  richly 
dressed  for  tfie  banquet.  They  are  followed  by  two 
men,  carrying  a  chest,  who  lay  it  down  and  return  as 
they  came. 


52  THE   VIKINGS   AT  HELGELAND     [act  i 

Thorolf. 

[Looking  out  after  his  father.]  Now  fare  they  all 
forth  to  fight,  and  I  must  stay  behind;  it  is  hard  to  be 
the  youngest  of  the  house. — Dagny!  all  hail  and  greet- 
ings to  thee,  sister  mine! 

Dagny. 

Thorolf!     All  good  powers! — thou  art  a  man,  grown! 

Thobolf. 
That  may  I  well  be,  forsooth,  in  five  years 

Dagny. 

Ay,  true,  true. 

Sigurd. 

[Giving  him  his  hand.]  In  thee  will  Ornulf  find  a 
stout  carl,  or  I  mistake  me. 

Thorolf. 
Would  he  but  prove  me ! 

Dagny. 

[Smiling.]  He  spares  thee  more  than  thou  hast  a 
mind  to  ?     Thou  wast  ever  well-nigh  too  dear  to  him. 

Sigurd. 
Whither  has  he  gone  ? 

Thorolf. 
Down  to  his  ship; — go  you  on;    he  will  follow. 


act  i]    THE  VIKINGS  AT  HELGELAND  53 

Sigurd. 

I  await  my  men ;  they  are  mooring  my  ships  and  bring- 
ing ashore  wares. 

Thorolp. 
There  must  I  lend  a  hand! 

[Goes  down  towards  the  shore. 

Sigurd. 
[After  a  moment's  reflection.]     Dagny,  my  wife,  now 
that  we  are  alone,  I  have  that  to  tell  thee  which  must  no 
longer  be  hidden. 

Dagny. 

[Surprised .]     What  meanest  thou  ? 

Sigurd. 
There  may  be  danger  in  this  faring  to  Gunnar's  hall. 

Dagny. 
Danger?    Thinkest  thou  that  Gunnar ? 

Sigurd. 
Nay,  Gunnar  is  brave  and  true— yet  better  had  it 
been  that  I  had  sailed  from  the  isle  without  crossing  his 
threshold. 

Dagny. 

Thou  makest  me  fear!     Sigurd,  what  is  amiss? 

Sigurd. 

First  answer  me  this:    the  golden  ring  that  I  gave 
thee,  where  hast  thou  it  ? 


54  THE  VIKINGS   AT  HELGELAND     [act  i 

Dagny. 

[Showing  it.]  Here,  on  my  arm;  thou  badest  me 
wear  it. 

Sigurd. 

Cast  it  to  the  bottom  of  the  sea,  so  deep  that  none 
may  ever  set  eyes  on  it  again;  else  may  it  be  the  bane  of 
many  men! 

Dagny. 

The  ring! 

Sigurd. 

[In  a  low  voice.]  That  night  when  we  bore  away  the 
twain  of  you — dost  remember  ? 

Dagny. 
Do  I  remember! 

Sigurd. 

It  is  of  that  I  would  speak. 

Dagny. 

[In  suspense.]     What  is  it  ?     Say  om 

Sigurd. 

Thou  knowest  there  had  been  a  feast;  thou  didst 
seek  thy  chamber  betimes;  but  Hiordis  still  sat  among 
the  men  in  the  feast-hall.  The  horn  went  busily  round, 
and  many  a  great  vow  was  sworn.  I  swore  to  bear  away 
a  fair  maid  with  me  from  Iceland;  Gunnar  swore  the 
same  as  I,  and  passed  the  cup  to  Hiordis.  She  grasped  it 
and  stood  up,  and  vowed  this  vow,  that  no  warrior  should 


act  i]     THE   VIKINGS   AT   HELGELAND  55 

have  her  to  wife,  save  him  who  should  go  to  her  bower, 
slav  the  white  bear  that  stood  bound  at  the  door,  and 
carry  her  away  in  his  arms. 

Dagny. 
Yes,  yes;   all  this  I  know! 

Sigurd. 

All  men  deemed  that  it  might  not  be,  for  the  bear 
was  the  fiercest  of  beasts;  none  but  Hiordis  might  come 
near  it,  and  it  had  the  strength  of  twenty  men. 

Dagny. 

But  Gunnar  slew  it,  and  by  that  deed  won  fame 
throughout  all  lands. 

Sigurd. 

[In  a  low  voice.]  He  won  the  fame— but— I  did  the 
deed ! 

Dagny. 

[With  a  cry.]     Thou! 

Sigurd. 

When  the  men  left  the  feast-hall,  Gunnar  prayed  me 
tt  come  with  him  alone  to  our  sleeping-place.  Then 
said  he:  "Hiordis  is  dearer  to  me  than  all  women; 
without  her  I  cannot  live."  I  answered  him:  "Then 
?o  to  her  bower;  thou  knowest  the  vow  she  hath  sworn  " 
3ut  he  said :  "  Life  is  dear  to  him  that  loves;  if  I  should 
tssail  the  bear,,  the  end  were  doubtful,  and  I  am  loath  to 
ose  my  life,  for  then  should  I  lose  Hiordis  too."     Long 


56  THE   VIKINGS   AT  HELGELAND     [act  i 

did  we  talk,  and  the  end  was  that  Gunnar  made  ready 
his  ship,  while  I  drew  my  sword,  took  Gunnar's  harness 
upon  me,  and  went  to  the  bower. 

Dagny. 

[With  pride  and  joy.]  And  thou — thou  didst  slay  the 
bear! 

Sigurd. 

I  slew  him.  In  the  bower  it  was  dark  as  under  a 
raven's  wing;  Hiordis  deemed  it  was  Gunnar  that  sat 
by  her — she  was  heated  with  the  mead — she  drew  a 
ring  from  her  arm  and  gave  it  to  me — it  is  that  thou 
wearest  now. 

Dagny. 

[Hesitating.]  And  thou  wast  alone  that  night  with 
Hiordis  in  her  bower? 

Sigurd. 

My  sword  lay  drawn  between  us.  [A  short  pause.] 
Ere  the  dawn,  I  bore  Hiordis  to  Gunnar's  ship;  she 
dreamed  not  of  our  guile,  and  he  sailed  away  with  her. 
Then  went  I  to  thy  sleeping-place  and  found  thee  there 
among  thy  women;  —  what  followed,  thou  knowest;  I 
sailed  from  Iceland  with  a  fair  maid,  as  I  had  sworn, 
and  from  that  day  hast  thou  stood  faithfully  at  my  side 
whithersoever  I  have  wandered. 

Dagny. 

[Much  moved.]     My  brave  husband!     And  that  great 
deed  was  thine! — Oh,  I  should  have  known  it;   it  c  o  u  1 ' 
have  been  none  else!     Hiordis,  that  proud  and  statel) 


act  i]     THE   VIKINGS   AT  HELGELAND  57 

woman,  couldst  thou  have  won,  yet  didst  choose  me! 
Now  wouldst  thou  be  tenfold  dearer  to  me,  wert  thou  not 
already  dearer  than  all  the  world. 

Sigurd. 

Dagny,  my  sweet  wife,  now  thou  knowest  all— that  need 
be  known.  I  could  not  but  warn  thee;  for  that  ring— 
Hiordis  must  never  see  it !  Wouldst  thou  do  my  will,  then 
cast  it  from  thee— into  the  depths  of  the  sea. 

Dagny. 

Nay,  Sigurd,  it  is  too  dear  to  me;  is  it  not  thy  gift  ? 
Bui  be  at  ease,  I  will  hide  it  from  every  eye,  and  never 
shall  I  breathe  a  word  of  what  thou  hast  told  me. 

Thorolf  comes  up  from  the  ships,  with  Sigurd's  men. 

Thorolf. 
All  is  ready  for  the  feast. 

Dagny. 
Come  then,  Sigurd— my  brave,  my  noble  warrior! 

Sigurd. 

Beware,  Dagny— beware !  With  thee  it  rests  now 
Whether  this  meeting  shall  end  in  peace  or  in  blood. 
KheerfuUy  to  the  others.]  Away  then,  to  the  feast  in 
Gunnar's  hall! 

[Goes  out  with  Dagny  to  the  right;  the  others  follow. 


ACT  SECOND. 

The  feast-room  in  Gunnar's  house.  The  entrance-door 
is  in  the  back;  smaller  doors  in  tlie  side-walls.  In 
front,  on  the  left,  tfw  greater  high-seat ;  opposite 
it,  on  the  right,  tlie  lesser.  In  the  middle  of  the  floor, 
a  wood  fire  is  burning  on  a  built-up  Jiearth.  In  the 
background,  on  both  sides  of  tlie  door,  are  daises  for 
the  women  of  the  household.  From  each  of  the  high- 
seats,  a  long  table,  with  benches,  stretches  backwards, 
parallel  with  the  wall.  It  is  dark  outside;  the  fire 
lights  tlie  room. 

Hiordis  and  Dagny  enter  from  the  right. 

Dagny. 

Nay,  Hiordis,  it  passes  my  wit  to  understand  thee. 
Thou  hast  shown  me  all  the  house;  I  know  not  what 
thing  thou  lackest,  and  all  thou  hast  is  fair  and  goodly; 
— then  why  bemoan  thy  lot  ? 

Hiordis. 

Cage  an  eagle  and  it  will  bite  at  the  wires,  be  they  of 
iron  or  of  gold. 

Dagny. 

In  one  thing  at  least  thou  art  richer  than  I;  thou  hast 
Egil,  thy  little  son. 

58 


act  ii]   THE  VIKINGS  AT  HELGELAND  59 

HlORDIS. 

Better  no  child,  than  one  born  in  shame. 

Dagny. 
In  shame? 

HlORDIS. 

Dost  thou  forget  thy  father's  saying  ?     Egil  is  the  son 
of  a  leman;   that  was  his  word. 

Dagny. 

A  word  spoken  in  wrath — why  wilt  thou  heed  it  ? 

HlORDIS. 

Nay,  nay,  Ornulf  was  right;  Egil  is  weak;  one  can 
see  he  is  no  freeborn  child. 

Dagny. 

Hiordis,  how  canst  thou ? 

HlORDIS. 

[Unlieeding.]  Doubt  not  that  shame  can  be  sucked 
into  the  blood,  like  the  venom  of  a  snake-bite.  Of  an- 
other mettle  are  the  freeborn  sons  of  mighty  men.  I 
have  heard  of  a  queen  that  took  her  son  and  sewed  his 
kirtle  fast  to  his  flesh,  yet  he  never  blinked  an  eye.  [With 
W  evil  look.]     Dagny,  that  will  I  try  with  Egil! 

Dagny. 

[Horrified.]     Hiordis,  Hiordis! 


60  THE   VIKINGS   AT   HELGELAND    [act  n 

HlORDIS. 

[Laughing.]  Ha-ha-ha!  Dost  thou  think  I  meant 
my  words  ?  [Changing  her  tone.]  But,  believe  me  or 
not  as  thou  wilt,  there  are  times  when  such  deeds  seem 
to  lure  me.  Doubtless  it  is  in  my  blood — for  I  am  of 
the  race  of  the  Jotuns,1  they  say. — Come,  sit  thou  here, 
Dagny.  Far  hast  thou  wandered  in  these  five  long 
years;  tell  me,  thou  hast  ofttimes  been  a  guest  in  the 
halls  of  kings? 

Dagny. 

Many  a  time — and  chiefly  with  iEthelstan  of  England. 

HlORDIS. 

And  everywhere  thou  hast  been  held  in  honour,  and 
hast  sat  in  the  highest  seats  at  the  board  ? 

Dagny. 
Doubtless.     As  Sigurd's  wife 


HlORDIS. 

Ay,  ay — a  famous   man   is   Sigurd — though   Gunnar 
stands  above  him. 


Gunnar  ? 


Dagny. 


HlORDIS. 


One  deed  did  Gunnar  do  that  Sigurd  shrank  from. 
But  let  that  be!     Tell  me,  when  Sigurd  went  a- viking 
and  thou  with  him,  when  thou  didst  hear  the  sword- 
blades   sing    in    the   fierce    war-game,    when   the    blood 
1  The  giants  or  Titans  of  Scandinavian  mythology. 


act  ii]    THE   VIKINGS   AT   HELGELAND  61 

■beamed  red  on  the  deck— came  there  not  over  thee  an 
untamcable  longing  to  plunge  into  the  strife?  Didst 
thou  not  don  harness  and  take  up  arms? 

Dagny. 
Never!     How  canst  thou  think  it?     I,  a  woman! 

Hiordis. 

A  woman,  a  woman,— who  knows  what  a  woman 
may  do!— But  one  thing  thou  canst  tell  me,  Dagny,  for 
that  thou  surely  knowest:  when  a  man  clasps  to  his 
breast  the  woman  he  loves— is  it  true  that  her  blood 
burns,  that  her  bosom  throbs— that  she  swoons  in  a 
strange  ecstasy? 

Dagny. 
[Blushing.]     Hiordis,  how  canst  thou ! 

Hiordis. 
Come,  tell  me ! 

Dagny. 
Surely  thou  thyself  hast  known  it. 

Hiordis. 

Ay  once,  and  only  once;  it  was  that  night  when  Gun- 
nar  sat  with  me  in  my  bower;  he  crushed  me  in  his  arms 
till  my  byrnie '  burst,  and  then,  then- 


.! 


Dagny. 

[Exclaiming.]     What!     Sigurd ! 

1  Breastplate. 


62  THE  VIKINGS   AT  HELGELAND    [act  ii 

HlORDIS. 

Sigurd  ?  What  of  Sigurd  ?  I  spoke  of  Gunnar — 
that  night  when  he  bore  me  away 

Dagny. 

[Collecting  herself.]  Yes,  yes,  I  remember. — I  know 
well 

HlORDIS. 

That  was  the  only  time;  never,  never  again!  I 
deemed   I  was   bewitched;    for  that   Gunnar  could   so 

clasp  a  woman [Stops  and  looks  at  Dagny.]     What 

ails  thee?     Methinks  thou  turnest  pale  and  red! 

Dagny. 
Nay,  nay! 

HlORDIS. 

[Without  heeding  her.]  Aye,  the  merry  viking- raid 
should  have  been  my  lot;  it  had  been  better  for  me,  and 
— mayhap  for  all  of  us.  That  were  life,  full  and  rich 
life!  Dost  thou  not  wonder,  Dagny,  to  find  me  here 
alive?  Art  not  afraid  to  be  alone  with  me  in  the  hall, 
thus  in  the  dark  ?  Deem'st  thou  not  that  I  must  have 
died  in  all  these  years,  and  that  it  is  my  ghost  that  stands 
at  thy  side? 

Dagny. 

[Painfully  ill  at  ease.]    Come — let  us  go — to  the  others. 

HlORDIS. 

[Seizing  her  by  the  arm.]  No,  stay!  Seems  it  not 
strange  to  thee,  Dagny,  that  any  woman  can  yet  live 
who  has  spent  here  five  such  nights  ? 


act  ii]    THE   VIKINGS   AT  HELGELAND  63 

Dagny. 
Five  nights? 

HiOrdis. 

Here  in  the  north  each  night  is  a  whole  winter  long. 
[Quickly  and  with  an  altered  expression.]  Yet  the  place 
is  fair  enough,  doubt  it  not !  Thou  shalt  see  sights  here 
such  as  thou  hast  not  seen  in  the  halls  of  the  English 
king.  We  shall  be  together  as  sisters  whilst  thou  bidest 
with  me;  we  shall  go  down  to  the  sea  when  the  storm 
blows  up  afresh;  thou  shalt  see  the  billows  racing  to  the 
land  like  wild,  white-maned  horses.  And  then  the 
whales  far  out  in  the  offing!  They  dash  one  against  an- 
other like  steel-clad  warriors!  Ha,  what  joy  to  be  a 
witch-wife  and  ride  on  a  whale's  back — to  speed  before 
the  bark,  and  wake  the  storm,  and  lure  men  to  the  deeps 
with  lovely  songs  of  sorcery! 

Dagny. 
Fie,  Hiordis,  how  canst  thou  speak  such  things! 

Hiordis. 
Canst  thou  sing  sorceries,  Dagny  ? 

Dagny. 


[With  liorror.]     I! 


Hiordis. 


I  trow  thou  canst;   how  else  didst  thou  lure  Sigurd  to 
thee? 

Dagny. 

Thy  speech  is  shameful;    let  me  go! 


64  THE  VIKINGS   AT  HELGELAND    [act  ii 

HlORDIS. 

[Holding  her  back.]  Because  I  jest!  Nay,  hear  me 
to  the  end !  Think,  Dagny,  what  it  is  to  sit  by  the  win- 
dow in  the  eventide  and  hear  the  kelpie  1  wailing  in  the 
boat-house;  to  sit  waiting  and  listening  for  the  dead 
men's  ride  to  Valhal;  for  their  way  lies  past  us  here  in 
the  north.  They  are  the  brave  men  that  fell  in  fight,  the 
strong  women  that  did  not  drag  out  their  lives  tamely, 
like  thee  and  me;  they  sweep  through  the  air  in  cloud- 
rack  and  storm,  on  their  black  horses,  with  jangling 
bells!  [Embraces  Dagny,  and  presses  her  wildly  in  her 
arms.]  Ha,  Dagny!  think  of  riding  the  last  ride  on  so 
rare  a  steed! 

Dagny. 

[Struggling  to  escape.]  Hiordis,  Hiordis!  Let  me  go! 
I  will  not  hear  thee! 

Hiordis. 

[Laughing.]  Weak  art  thou  of  heart,  and  easily 
affrighted. 

Gunnar  enters  from  the  back,  with  Sigurd 
and  Thorolf. 

Gunnar. 

Now,  truly,  are  all  things  to  my  very  mind!  I  have 
found  thee  again,  Sigurd,  my  brave  brother,  as  kind  and 
true  as  of  old.  I  have  Ornulf's  son  under  my  roof,  and 
the  old  man  himself  follows  speedily  after;   is  it  not  so  ? 

. 

Thorolf. 
So  he  promised. 

1  "Draugen,"  a  vague  and  horrible  sea-monster. 


act  ii]    THE  VIKINGS  AT  HELGELAND  65 

GUNNAR. 

Then  all  I  lack  is  that  Egil  should  be  here. 

Thorolf. 
'Tis  plain  thou  lovest  the  boy,  thou  namest  him  so  oft. 

Gunnar. 

Truly  I  love  him;  he  is  my  only  child;  and  he  is  like 
to  grow  up  fair  and  kindly. 

Hiordis. 
But  no  warrior. 

Gunnar. 
Nay — that  thou  must  not  say. 

Sigurd. 
Howcouldst  thou  send  him  from  thee 

Gunnar. 

Would  that  I  had  not!  [In  an  undertone.]  But  thou 
knowest,  Sigurd,  he  who  loves  overmuch,  takes  not  al- 
ways the  manliest  part.  [Aloud.]  I  had  few  men  in  my 
house,  and  none  could  be  sure  of  his  life  when  it  was 
known  that  Ornulf  lay  in  the  cove  with  a  ship  of  war. 

Hiordis. 

One  thing  I  know  that  ought  first  to  be  made  safe, 
life  afterwards. 

Thorolf. 
And  that  is ? 


66  THE  VIKINGS   AT  HELGELAND    [act  n 

HlORDIS. 

Honour  and  fame  among  men. 

Gunnar. 
Hiordis ! 

Sigurd. 

It  shall  not  be  said  of  Gunnar  that  he  has  tainted  his 
honour  by  doing  this. 

Gunnar. 

[Sternly.]     No  one  shall  make  strife  between  me  and 
Ornulf's  kinsfolk! 

Hiordis. 

[Smiling.]     Tell  me,  Sigurd — can  thy  ship  sail  with 
any  wind  ? 

Sigurd. 

Ay,  when  'tis  cunningly  steered. 

Hiordis. 

Good!     I  too  will  steer  my  ship  cunningly,  and  make 
my  way  whither  I  will.  [Retires  towards  tfie  back. 

Dagny. 

[Whispers,  uneasily.]     Siguid,  let  us  hence — this  very 
night ! 

Sigurd. 

It  is  too  late  now;   'twas  thou  that 


act  ii]    THE   VIKINGS   AT   HELGELAND  67 

Dagny. 

Then  I  held  Hiordis  dear;  but  now ;  I  have  heard 

her  speak  words  I  shudder  to  think  of. 

Sigurd's  men,  with  otlier  guests,  men  and  women,  house- 
carls  and  handmaidens,  enter  from  the  back. 

Gunnar. 

[After  a  short  pause,  in  which  greetings  and  the  like 
are  exchanged.]  Now  to  the  board!  My  chief  guest, 
Ornulf  of  the  Fiords,  comes  later;  so  Thorolf  promises. 

Hiordis. 

[To  the  house-folk.]  Pass  the  ale  and  mead  around, 
that  hearts  may  wax  merry  and  tongues  may  be  loosed. 

[Gunnar  leads  Sigurd  to  the  high-seat  on  the  right. 
Dagny  seats  herself  on  Sigurd's  right,  Hiordis 
opposite  him,  at  the  other  side  of  the  same  table. 
Thorolf  is  in  like  manner  ushered  to  a  place  at 
the  other  table,  and  thus  sits  opposite  Gunnar, 
who  occupies  the  greater  high-seat.  The  others 
take  their  seats  furtlier  back. 

Hiordis. 

[After  a  pause  in  which  they  drink  with  each  other  and 
converse  quietly  across  the  tables.]  It  seldom  chances 
that  so  many  brave  men  are  seated  together,  as  I  see 
to-night  in  our  hall.  It  were  fitting,  then,  that  we 
should  essay  the  old  pastime:  Let  each  man  name 
the  chief  of  his  deeds,  that  all  may  judge  which  is  the 
mightiest. 


68  THE   VIKINGS   AT  HELGELAND    [act  ii 

GUNNAR. 

That  is  an  ill  custom  at  a  drinking-feast;  'twill  oft 
breed  strife. 

Hiordis. 
Little  did  I  deem  that  Gunnar  was  afraid. 

Sigurd. 

That  no  one  deems;  but  it  were  long  ere  we  came  to 
an  end,  were  we  all  to  tell  of  our  deeds,  so  many  as  we  be. 
Do  thou  rather  tell  us,  Gunnar,  of  thy  journey  to  Biarme- 
land;  'tis  no  small  exploit  to  fare  so  far  to  the  north, 
and  gladly  would  we  hear  of  it. 

Hiordis. 

The  journey  to  Biarmeland  is  chapman's  work,  and 
little  worthy  to  be  named  among  warriors.  Nay,  do 
thou  begin,  Sigurd,  if  thou  wouldst  not  have  me  deem 
that  thou  canst  ill  endure  to  hear  my  husband's  praise! 
Say  on;  name  that  one  of  thy  deeds  which  thou  dost 
prize  the  highest. 

Sigurd. 

Well,  since  thou  wilt  have  it  so,  so  must  it  be.  Let 
it  be  told,  then,  that  I  lay  a-viking  among  the  Orkneys; 
there  came  foemen  against  us,  but  we  swept  them  from 
their  ships,  and  I  fought  alone  against  eight  men. 

Hiordis. 
Good  was  that  deed ;   but  wert  thou  fully  armed  ? 

Sigurd. 
Fully  armed,  with  axe,  spear,  and  sword. 


act  ii]   THE  VIKINGS  AT  HELGELAND  69 

HlORDIS. 

Still  the  deed  was  good.  Now  must  thou,  my  hus- 
band, name  that  which  thou  deemest  the  chief  among 
thy  exploits. 

Gunnar. 

[Unwillingly.]  I  slew  two  berserkers  who  had  seized 
a  merchant-ship;  and  thereupon  I  sent  the  captive  chap- 
men home,  giving  them  their  ship  freely,  without  ran- 
som. The  King  of  England  deemed  well  of  that  deed; 
he  said  that  I  had  done  honourably,  and  gave  me  thanks 
and  good  gifts. 

HlORDIS. 

Nay,  truly,  Gunnar,  a  better  deed  than  that  couldst 
thou  name. 

Gunnar. 

[Vehemently.]  I  will  take  praise  for  no  other  deed! 
Since  last  I  fared  from  Iceland  I  have  lived  at  peace  and 
traded  in  merchandise.     No  word  more  on  this  matter! 

HlORDIS. 

If  thou  thyself  wilt  hide  thy  renown,  thy  wife  shall 
speak. 

Gunnar. 
Peace,  Hiordis — I  command  thee! 

HlORDIS. 

Sigurd  fought  with  eight  men,  being  fully  armed; 
Gunnar  came  to  my  bower  in  the  black  night,  slew  the 


70  THE   VIKINGS   AT   HELGELAND    [act  n 

bear  that  had  twenty  men's  strength,  and  yet  had  but  a 
short  sword  in  his  hand. 


Gunnar. 
[Violently  agitated.]     Woman,  not  a  word  more! 

Dagny. 

[Softly.]     Sigurd,  wilt  thou  endure ? 

Sigurd. 
[Likewise.]     Be  still! 

Hiordis. 

[To  the  company.]  And  now,  ye  brave  men— which 
is  the  mightier,  Sigurd  or  Gunnar? 

Gunnar. 
Silence! 

Hiordis. 

[Loudly.]  Speak  out;  I  have  the  right  to  crave  judg- 
ment. 

An  Old  Man. 

[Among  the  guests.]  If  the  truth  be  told,  then  is 
Gunnar's  deed  greater  than  all  other  deeds  of  men; 
Gunnar  is  the  mightiest  warrior,  and  Sigurd  is  second 
to  him. 

Gunnar. 

[With  a  glance  across  the  table.]  Ah,  Sigurd,  Sigurd, 
didst  thou  but  know ! 


act  ii]    THE  VIKINGS  AT   HELGELAND  71 

Dagny. 
[Softly.]     It  is  too  much— friend  though  he  be! 

Sigurd. 

Peace,  wife!  [Aloud,  to  the  otliers.]  Ay,  truly,  Gun- 
nar  is  the  most  honourable  of  all  men;  so  would  I  esteem 
him  to  my  dying  day,  even  had  he  never  done  that  deed; 
for  that  I  hold  more  lightly  than  ye. 

Hiordis. 
There  speaks  thy  envy,  Sigurd  Viking! 

Sigurd. 

[Smiling.]  Mightily  dost  thou  mistake.  [Kindly,  to 
Gunnar,  drinking  to  him  across  the  table.]  Hail,  noble 
Gunnar;  our  friendship  shall  stand  fast,  whosoever  may 
seek  to  break  it. 

Hiordis. 
No  one,  that  I  wot  of,  has  such  a  thought. 

Sigurd. 

Say  not  so;  I  could  almost  think  thou  hadst  bidden 
us  to  the  feast  in  the  hope  to  stir  up  strife. 

Hiordis. 

That  is  like  thee,  Sigurd;  now  art  thou  wroth  that  thou 
may'st  not  be  held  the  mightiest  man  at  the  board ! 


, 


Sigurd. 


have    ever    esteemed    Gunnar    more    highly    than 
myself. 


72  THE  VIKINGS   AT   HELGELAND    [act  n 

HlORDIS. 

Well,  well — second  to  Gunnar  is  still  a  good  place,  and 
-[with  a  side  glance  at  Thorolf]  had  Ornulf  been 


here,  he  could  have  had  the  third  seat. 


Thorolf. 

Then  would  Jokul,  thy  father,  find  a  low  place  indeed; 
for  he  fell  before  Ornulf. 

[The  following  dispute  is  carried  on,  by  both  parties^ 
with  rising  and  yet  repressed  irritation. 

HlORDIS. 

That  shalt  thou  never  say !  Ornulf  is  a  skald,  and  men 
whisper  that  he  has  praised  himself  for  greater  deeds 
than  he  has  done. 

Thorolf. 

Then  woe  to  him  who  whispers  so  loudly  that  it  comes 
to  my  ear! 

HlORDIS. 

[With  a  smile  of  provocation.]  Wouldst  thou  avenge 
it? 

Thorolf. 

Ay,  so  that  my  vengeance  should  be  told  of  far  and 
wide. 

HlORDIS. 

Then  here  I  pledge  a  cup  to  this,  that  thou  may'st 
first  have  a  beard  on  thy  chin. 


act  ii]    THE   VIKINGS   AT   HELGELAND  73 

Thorolf. 

Even  a  beardless  lad  is  too  good  to  wrangle  with 
women. 

Hiordis. 

But  too  weak  to  fight  with  men;  therefore  thy  father  let 
thee  He  by  the  hearth  at  home  in  Iceland,  whilst  thy 
brothers  went  a-viking. 

Thorolf. 

It  had  been  well  had  he  kept  as  good  an  eye  on  thee; 
for  then  hadst  thou  not  left  the  land  an  unwedded 
woman. 

GUNNAR  AND  SlGURD. 

Thorolf! 

Dagny. 

[Simultaneously.]     Brother! 

Hiordis. 
[Softly,  and  quivering  with  rage.]     Ha!    wait— wait! 

Thorolf. 

[Gives  Gunnar  his  hand.]  Be  not  wroth,  Gunnar;— 
evil  words  came  to  my  tongue;  but  thy  wife  goaded 
me! 

Dagny. 

[Softly  and  imploringly.]  Foster-sister,  by  any  love 
thou  hast  ever  borne  me,  stir  not  up  strife! 


. 


74  THE   VIKINGS   AT   HELGELAND    [act  n 

HlORDIS. 

[Laughing.]  Jests  must  pass  at  the  feast-board,  if 
the  merriment  is  to  thrive. 

Gunnar. 

[Who  has  been  talking  softly  to  Thorolf.]  Thou  art 
a  brave  lad !  [Hands  him  a  sicord  which  hangs  beside 
the  high-seat.]  Here,  Thorolf,  here  is  a  good  gift  for 
thee.     Wield  it  well,  and  let  us  be  friends. 

* 

HlORDIS. 

Beware  how  thou  givest  away  thy  weapons,  Gunnar; 
men  may  say  thou  dost  part  with  things  thou  canst  not 
use! 

Thorolf. 

[Who  has  meanwhile  examined  the  sword.]  Thanks 
for  the  gift,  Gunnar;  it  shall  never  be  drawn  in  an 
unworthy  cause. 

HlORDIS. 

If  thou  wilt  keep  that  promise,  then  do  thou  never 
lend  the  sword  to  thy  brothers. 

Gunnar. 
Hiordis! 

HlORDIS. 

[Continuing.]  Neither  let  it  hang  on  thy  father's 
wall;   for  there  it  would  hang  with  base  men's  weapons. 

Thorolf. 

True  enough,  Hiordis — for  there  thy  father's  axe  and 
shield  have  hung  this  many  a  year. 


I 


act  ii]    THE   VIKINGS   AT   HELGELAND  75 

HlORDIS. 

[Mastering  herself.]  That  Ornulf  slew  my  father- 
that  deed  is  ever  on  thy  tongue;  but  if  report  speak  true, 
'twas  scarce  so  honourable  a  deed  as  thou  deemest. 

Thorolf. 
Of  what  report  dost  thou  speak  ? 

HlORDIS. 

[Smiling.]  I  dare  not  name  'it,  for  it  would  make 
thee  wroth. 

Thorolf. 
Then  hold  thy  peace — I  ask  no  better. 

[Turns  from  her. 

HlORDIS. 

Nay,  why  should  I  not  tell  it?  Is  it  true,  Thorolf, 
that  for  three  nights  thy  father  sat  in  woman's  weed, 
doing  sorceries  with  the  witch  of  Smalserhorn,  ere  he 
dared  face  Jokul  in  fight? 

[All  rise;  violent  excitement  among  the  guests- 

Gunnar,  Sigurd,  and  Dagny. 
Hidrdis ! 

Thorolf. 
[Bitterly  exasperated.]  So  base  a  lie  has  no  man 
spoken  of  Ornulf  of  the  Fiords!  Thou  thyself  hast 
made  it,  for  no  one  less  venomous  than  thou  could  dream 
of  such  a  thing.  The  blackest  crime  a  man  can  do  hast 
thou  laid  at  ray  father's  door.  [Throwing  the  sword 
away.]  There,  Gunnar,  take  thy  gift  again;  I  can  take 
nought  from  that  house  wherein  my  father  is  reviled. 


76  THE   VIKINGS   AT   HELGELAND    [act  ii 

GUNNAR. 

Thorolf ,  hear  me ! 

Thorolf. 

Let  me  go!  But  beware  both  thou  and  Hiordis;  for 
my  father  has  now  in  his  power  one  whom  ye  hold  dear- 
est of  all! 

Hiordis. 

[Starting.]     Thy  father  has ! 

GUNNAR. 

[With  a  cry.]     What  sayest  thou  ? 

Sigurd. 
[VeJiemently.]     Where  is  Ornulf  ? 

Thorolf. 

[With  mocking  laughter.]  Gone  southward — with  my 
brothers. 

Gunnar. 
Southward ! 

Hiordis. 

[Shrieking.]     Gunnar!   Ornulf  has  slain  Egil,  our  son. 

Gunnar. 

Slain! — Egil  slain!  Then  woe  to  Ornulf  and  all  his 
race!     Thorolf,  speak  out; — is  this  true? 

Sigurd. 
Gunnar,  Gunnar — hear  me! 


act  ii]    THE   VIKINGS   AT   HELGELAND  77 

GUNNAR. 

Speak  out,  if  thou  care  for  thy  life! 

Thorolf. 

Thou  canst  not  fright  me!  Wait  till  my  father 
>mes;  he  shall  plant  a  mark  of  shame  over  against 
Gunnar's  house!  And  meanwhile,  Hiordis,  do  thou 
cheer  thee  with  these  words  I  heard  to-day:  "Ere 
eventide  shall  Gunnar  and  his  wife  be  childless." 

[Goes  out  by  the  back. 
Gunnar. 
[In  agony.]     Slain— slain!     My  little  Egil  slain! 

Hiordis. 
[Wildly.]     And    thou— dost    thou    let    him   go?     Let 
Egil,   thy  child.   He  unavenged!     Then   wert  thou   the 
dastard  of  dastards ! 

Gunnar. 

[As  if  beside  himself.]     A  sword— an  axe!     'Tis  the 
last  tidings  he  shall  ever  bring! 

[Seizes  an  axe  from  one  of  the  bystanders  and  rushes 
out. 

Sigurd. 
[About  to  follow.]     Gunnar,  hold  thy  hand! 

Hiordis. 

[Holding  him  back.]    Stay,  stay!     The  men  will  part 
them;    I  know  Gunnar! 

[A  cry  from  the  crowd,  which  has  flocked  together  at 
the  main  door. 


78  THE  VIKINGS   AT  HELGELAND    [act  ii 

Sigurd  and  Dagny. 
What  is  it  ? 

A  Voice  among  the  Crowd. 
Thorolf  has  fallen. 

Sigurd. 
Thorolf!     Ha,  let  me  go! 

Dagny. 

My  brother!     Oh,  my  brother! 

[Sigurd  is  on  the  point  of  rushing  out.  At  tJie  same 
moment,  the  crowd  parts,  Gunnar  enters,  and 
throws  down  the  axe  at  tlie  door. 

Gunnar. 
Now  it  is  done.     Egil  is  avenged! 

Sigurd. 
Well  for  thee  if  thy  hand  has  not  been  too  hasty. 

Gunnar. 
Mayhap,  mayhap;   but  Egil,  Egil,  my  fair  boy! 

Hiordis. 

Now  must  we  arm  us,  and  seek  help  among  our  friends; 
for  Thorolf  has  many  avengers. 

Gunnar. 

[Gloomily.]     He  will   be  his  own  worst  avenger;  h€ 
will  be  with  me  night  and  day. 


I 


act  ii]    THE   VIKINGS   AT   HELGELAND  79 

HlORDIS. 

Thorolf  got  his  reward.  Kinsmen  must  suffer  for 
kinsmen's  deeds. 

Gunnar. 

True,  true;  but  this  I  know,  my  mind  was  lighter 
ere  this  befell. 

HlORDIS. 

The  first  night1  is  ever  the  worst; — when  that  is  over, 
thou  wilt  heed  it  no  more.  Ornulf  has  sought  his  re- 
venge by  shameful  guile;  he  would  not  come  against  us 
in  open  strife;  he  feigned  to  be  peacefully  minded;  and 
then  he  falls  upon  our  defenceless  child!  Ha,  I  saw 
more  clearly  than  ye;  well  I  deemed  that  Ornulf  was 
evil-minded  and  false;  good  cause  had  I  to  egg  thee  on 
against  him  and  all  his  faithless  tribe. 

Gunnar. 

[Fiercely.]  That  hadst  thou!  My  vengeance  is  poor 
beside  Ornulf's  crime.  He  has  lest  Thorolf,  but  he 
has  six  sons  left — and  I  have  none — none! 

A  Kouse-carl. 

[Enters  hastily  from  tfie  back.]  Ornulf  of  the  Fiords 
is  at  hand! 

Gunnar. 

Ornulf! 

HlORDIS   AND    SEVERAL    MEN. 

To  arms!   to  arms! 

1  Literally  the  "  blood-night." 


80  THE  VIKINGS   AT  HELGELAND    [act  ii 

Dagny. 
[Simultaneously.]     My  father! 

Sigurd. 

[As  if  seized  by  a  foreboding.]    Ornulf !    Ah,  Gun- 

nar,  Gunnar! 

Gunnar. 

[Draws  his  sivord.]     Up,  all  my  men!     Vengeance  for 
Egil's  death! 

Ornulf  enters,  with  Egil  in  his  arms.  " 

Gunnar. 
[With  a  shriek.]     Egil! 

Ornulf. 
I  bring  you  back  little  Egil. 

All. 
[One  to  another.]     Egil!     Egil  alive! 

Gunnar. 

[Letting  his  sword  fall.]     Woe  is   me:    what  have   I 
done  ? 

Dagny. 

Oh,  Thorolf,  my  brother! 

Sigurd. 
I  knew  it!    I  knew  it! 


act  ii]    THE   VIKINGS   AT  HELGELAND  81 

Ornulf. 

[Setting  Egil  down.]     There,  Gunnar,  hast  thou  thy 
pretty  boy  again. 

Egil. 

Father!     Old   Ornulf  would  not  do  me  ill,  as  thou 
saidst  when  I  went  away. 

Ornulf. 

[To  Hiordis.]     Now  have  I  atoned  for  thy  father; 
now  surely  there  may  be  peace  between  us. 

Hiordis. 
[With  repressed  emotion.]     Mayhap! 

GUNNAR. 

[As  if  waking  up.]     Is  it  a  hideous  dream  that  mad- 
dens me!     Thou— thou  bringest  Egil  home! 

Ornulf. 
As  thou  seest;  but  in  truth  he  has  been  near  his  death. 

Gunnar. 
That  I  know. 

Ornulf. 
And  hast  no  more  joy  in  his  return  ? 

Gunnar. 

Had  he  come  sooner,  I  had  been  more  glad.     But  tell 
me  all  that  has  befallen! 


82  THE   VIKINGS   AT   HELGELAND    [act  n 

Ornulf. 

That  is  soon  done.  Kare  the  Peasant  was  plotting  evil 
against  you;  with  other  caitiffs  he  fared  southward  after 
Egil. 

GUNNAR. 

Kare !  [  To  himself.']  Ha,  now  I  understand  Thorolf 's 
words ! 

Ornulf. 

His  purpose  came  to  my  ears;  I  needs  must  thwart  so 
black  a  deed.  I  would  not  give  atonement  for  Jokul, 
and,  had  things  so  befallen,  I  had  willingly  slain  thee, 
Gunnar,  in  single  combat— yet  I  could  not  but  save  thy 
child.     With  my  sons,  I  hasted  after  Kare. 

Sigurd. 
[Softly.]     An  accursed  deed  has  here  been  done. 

Ornulf. 

When  I  came  up  with  him,  Egil's  guards  lay  bound; 
thy  son  was  already  in  thy  foemen's  hands,  and  they 
would  not  long  have  spared  him.  Hot  was  the  fight! 
Seldom  have  I  given  and  taken  keener  strokes;  Kare  and 
two  men  fled  inland;  the  rest  sleep  safely,  and  will  be 
hard  to  waken. 

Gunnar. 

[In  eager  suspense.]     But  thou — thou,  Ornulf ? 

Ornulf. 
[Darkly.]     Six  sons  followed  me  into  the  fight. 


act  ii]    THE   VIKINGS   AT  HELGELAND  83 

GUNNAR. 

[Breathlessly.]     But  homewards ? 

Ornulf. 
None. 

Gunnar. 

[Appalled.]     None!     [Softly.]     And  Thorolf,  Thorolf! 

[Deep  emotion  among  the  bystanders.     Hiordis  sfiows 

signs  of  a  violent  mental  struggle;  Dagny  weeps 

silently   by  the   high-seat  on  the  right.     Sigurd 

stands  beside  her,  painfully  agitated. 

Ornulf. 

[After  a  short  pause.]  It  is  hard  for  a  many-branching 
pine  to  be  stripped  in  a  single  storm.  But  men  die  and 
men  live; — hand  me  a  horn ;  I  will  drink  to  my  sons'  mem- 
ory. [One  of  Sigurd's  men  gives  him  a  horn.]  Hail  to  you 
where  now  ye  ride,  my  bold  sons !  Close  upon  your  heels 
shall  the  bronze-gates  not  clang,  for  ye  come  to  the  hall 
with  a  great  following.  [Drinks,  and  hands  back  the 
horn.]  And  now  home  to  Iceland !  Ornulf  has  fought 
his  last  fight;  the  old  tree  has  but  one  green  branch  left, 
and  it  must  be  shielded  warily.     Where  is  Thorolf  ? 

Egil. 

[To  his  father.]  Ay,  let  me  see  Thorolf!  Ornulf 
says  he  will  carve  me  a  ship  with  many,  many  warriors 
aboard. 

Ornulf. 

praise  all  good  wights  that  Thorolf  came  not  with  us; 
for  if  he  too— nay,  strong  though  I  be,  t  h  a  t  had  been 


84  THE   VIKINGS   AT   HELGELAND    [act  ii 

too  heavy  for  me  to  bear.  But  why  eomes  he  not  ?  He 
was  ever  the  first  to  meet  his  father;  for  to  both  of  us  it 
seemed  we  could  not  live  apart  a  single  day. 

Gunnar. 
Ornulf,  Ornulf! 

Ornulf. 

[With  growing  uneasiness.]  Ye  stand  all  silent,  I  mark 
it  now.     What  ails  you  ?     Where  is  Thorolf  ? 

Dagny. 
Sigurd,  Sigurd — this  will  be  the  sorest  blow  to  him! 

Gunnar. 

[Struggling    with    himself.]     Old    man! — No and 

yet,  it  cannot  be  hid 

Ornulf. 
[Vehemently.]     My  son!     Where  is  he? 

Gunnar. 
Thorolf  is  slain! 

Ornulf. 

Slain!     Thoroif?     Thorolf?     Ha,  thou  liest! 

Gunnar. 

I  would  give  my  warmest  heart-blood  to  know  him 
alive ! 

Hiordis. 

[To  Ornulf.]  Thorolf  was  himself  to  blame  for  what 
befell;  with  dark  sayings  he  gave  us  to  wit  that  thou  hadst 
fallen  upon  Egil  and   slain  him; — we  had  parted  half 


act  ii]    THE  VIKINGS   AT  HELGELAND  85 

in  wrath,  and  thou  hast  .ere  now  brought  death  among  my 
kindred.  And  moreover— Thorolf  bore  himself  at  the 
feast  like  a  wanton  boy;  he  brooked  not  our  jesting,  and 
spoke  many  evil  things.  Not  till  then  did  Gunnar  wax 
wroth;  not  till  then  did  he  raise  his  hand  upon  thy  son; 
and  well  I  wot  that  he  had  good  and  lawful  ground  for 
that  deed. 

Ornulf. 

[Calmly.]  Well  may  we  see  that  thou  art  a  woman, 
for  thou  usest  many  words.  To  what  end  ?  If  Thorold 
is  slain,  then  is  his  saga  over. 

Egil. 
If  Thorold  is  slain,  I  shall  have  no  warriors. 

Ornulf. 

Nay,  Egil— we  have  lost  our  warriors  now,  both  thou 
and  I.     [To  Hiordis.]     Thy  father  sang: 

Jokul's  kin  for  Jokul's  slayer 
many  a  woe  shall  still  be  weaving. 

Well  hast  thou  wrought  that  his  words  should  come  true. 
[Pauses  a  moment,  then  turns  to  one  of  tiie  men.]  Where 
got  he  his  death-wound  ? 

The  Man. 

Right  across  his  brow. 

Ornulf. 

[Pleased.]  Ha;  that  is  an  honourable  wound;  he  did 
not  turn  his  back.  But  fell  he  sideways,  or  in  toward 
Gunnar's  feet  ? 


86         THE   VIKINGS   AT  HELGELAND     [act  n 

The  Man. 
Half  sideways  and  half  toward  Gunnar. 

Ornulf. 

That  bodes  but  half  vengeance;  well  well, — we  shall 
see! 

Gunnar. 

[Approaching.]  Ornulf,  I  know  well  that  all  my  goods 
were  naught  against  thy  loss;  but  crave  of  me  what 
thou  wilt 

Ornulf. 

[Sternly  interrupting  him.]  Give  me  Thorolf's  body, 
and  let  me  go !     Where  lies  he  ? 

[Gunnar  points  silently  to  the  back. 

Ornulf. 

[Takes  a  step  or  two,  but  turns  and  says  in  a  voice  of 
thunder  to  Sigurd,  Dagny,  and  others  who  are  making 
as  though  to  follow  him,  sorrowing.]  Stay!  Think  ye 
Ornulf  will  be  followed  by  a  train  of  mourners,  like  a 
whimpering  woman  ?  Stay,  I  say ! — I  can  bear  my 
Thorolf  alone.  [With  calm  strength.]  Sonless  I  go;  but 
none  shall  say  that  he  saw  me  bowed. 

[He  goes  slowly  out. 

Hiordis. 

[With  forced  laughter.]  Ay,  let  him  go  as  he  will;  we 
shall  scarce  need  many  men  to  face  him  should  he  come 
with  strife  again !  Now,  Dagny — I  wot  it  is  the  last  time 
thy  father  shall  sail  from  Iceland  on  such  a  quest! 


act  ii]    THE  VIKINGS  AT  HELGELAND  87 

Sigurd. 
[Indignant.]     Oh,  shame! 

Dagny. 

[Likewise.]  And  thou  canst  mock  him — mock  him, 
after  all  that  has  befallen  ? 

Hiordis. 

A  deed  once  done,  'tis  wise  to  praise  it.  This  morning 
I  swore  hate  and  vengeance  against  Ornulf; — the  slaying 
of  Jokul  I  might  have  forgotten — all,  save  that  he  cast 
shame  upon  my  lot.  He  called  me  a  leman;  if  it  be  so, 
it  shames  me  not;  for  Gunnar  is  mightier  now  than  thy 
father;  he  is  greater  and  more  famous  than  Sigurd,  thine 
own  husband! 

Dagny. 

[In  wild  indignation.]  There  thou  errest,  Hiordis — 
and  even  now  shall  all  men  know  that  thoudwellest 
under  a  coward's  roof! 

Sigurd. 
[Vehemently.]     Dagny,  beware! 

Gunnar. 
A  coward! 

Hiordis. 
[With  scornful  laughter.]     Thou  pratest  senselessly. 

Dagny. 

It  shall  no  longer  be  hidden;  I  held  my  peace  till  thou 
didst  mock  at  my  father  and  my  dead  brothers;  I  held 
my  peace  while  Ornulf  was  here,  lest  he  should  learn  that 


88         THE  VIKINGS   AT  HELGELAND     [act  n 

Thorolf  fell  by  a  dastard's  hand.  But  now — praise  Gun- 
nar  nevermore  for  that  deed  in  Iceland ;  for  Gunnar  is  a 
coward!  The  sword  that  lay  drawn  between  thee  and 
the  bear-slayer  hangs  at  my  husband's  side — the  ring 
thou  didst  take  from  thy  arm  thou  gavest  to  Sigurd. 
[  Takes  it  off  and  holds  it  aloft.]     Behold  it ! 

HlORDIS. 

[Wildly.]     Sigurd. 

The  Crowd. 
Sigurd!     Sigurd  did  the  deed! 

HlORDIS. 

[Quivering  with  agitation.]  He!  he! — Gunnar,  is  this 
true? 

Gunnar. 

[With  lofty  calm.]  It  is  all  true,  save  only  that  I  am  a 
coward;    no  coward  or  dastard  am  I. 

Sigurd. 

[Moved.]  That  art  thou  not,  Gunnar!  That  hast  thou 
never  been !  [  To  the  rest.]  Away,  my  men !  Away  from 
here ! 

Dagny. 

[At  the  door,  to  Hiordis.]  Who  is  now  the  mightiest 
man  at  the  board — my  husband,  or  thine  ? 

[She  goes  out  with  Sigurd  and  his  men. 

HlORDIS. 

[To  herself]  Now  have  I  but  one  thing  left  to  do — 
but  one  deed  to  think  upon:   Sigurd  or  I  must  die! 


ACT  THIRD. 

The  hall  in  Gunnar's  house.     It  is  day. 

Hiordis  sits  on  tlie  bench  in  front  of  the  smaller  high-seat, 

busy  hoisting  a  bow-string;  on  the  table  lie  a  bow  and 

some  arrows. 

Hiordis. 

[Pulling  at  the  bow-string.]  It  is  tough  and  strong; 
[With  a  glance  at  the  arrows]  the  shaft  is  both  keen  and 
well- weighted— [Lets  her  hands  fall  in  her  lap]  but  where 

is  the  hand  that .     [Vehemently.]     Flouted,  flouted 

by  him  —  by  Sigurd !     I  must  hate  him  more  than  others, 
that  can  I  well  mark;  but  many  days  shall  not  pass  ere  I 

have [Meditating.]     Ay,  but  the  arm,  the  arm  that 

shall  do  the  deed ? 

Gunnar  enters,  silent  and  thoughtful,  from  the  back. 

Hiordis. 

[After  a  short  pause.]  How  goes  it  with  thee,  my  hus- 
band ? 

Gunnar. 

Ill,  Hiordis;  I  cannot  away  with  that  deed  of  yesterday; 
it  lies  heavy  on  my  heart. 

Hiordis. 

Do  as  I  do;   get  thee  some  work  to  busy  thee. 

89 


90        THE   VIKINGS   AT  HELGELAND     [act  hi 

GUNNAR. 

Doubtless  I  must. 

[A   pause;    Gtjnnar  paces  up  and  down  the  hall, 
notices  what  Hiordis  is  doing,  and  approaches  her. 

Gunnar. 
What  dost  thou  there  ? 

Hiordis. 

[Without  looking  up.]  I  am  twisting  a  bow-string; 
canst  thou  not  see  ? 

Gunnar. 

A  bow-string — of  thine  own  hair  ? 

Hiordis. 

[Smiling.]  Great  deeds  are  born  with  every  hour  in 
these  times;  yesterday  thou  didst  slay  my  foster-brother, 
and  I  have  woven  this  since  daybreak. 

Gunnar. 
Hiordis,  Hiordis! 

Hiordis. 
[Looking  up.]     What  is  amiss  ? 

Gunnar. 
Where  wast  thou  last  night  ? 

Hiordis. 
Last  night  ? 


act  in]    THE   VIKINGS   AT  HELGELAND        91 

GUNNAR. 

Thou  wast  not  in  the  sleeping-room. 

Hiordis. 
Know'st  thou  that  ? 

GUNNAR. 

I  could  not  sleep;  I  tossed  in  restless  dreams  of  that — 

.  that  which  befell  Thorolf.     I  dreamt  that  he  came 

No  matter;  I  wakened.  Then  methought  there  sounded 
a  strange,  fair  song  through  all  the  house;  I  arose;  I 
pushed  the  door  ajar;  here  I  saw  thee  sitting  by  the  log- 
fire — it  burned  blue  and  red — fixing  arrow-heads,  and 
singing  sorceries  over  them. 

Hiordis. 

I  did  what  was  needful;    for  strong  is  the  breast  that 
must  be  pierced  this  day. 

GUNNAR. 

I  understand  thee  well:  thou  wouldst  have  Sigurd  slain. 

Hiordis. 
Mayhap. 

GUNNAR. 

Thou  shalt  never  have  thy  will.     I  will  keep  peace  with 
Sigurd,  howe'er  thou  goad  me. 

Hiordis. 
[Smiling.]     Dost  think  so  ? 

GUNNAR. 

know  it! 


92        THE  VIKINGS   AT   HELGELAND     [act  m 

HlORDIS. 

[Hands  him  the  bow-string.]  Tell  me,  Gunnar — canst 
loose  this  knot  ? 

Gunnar. 
[Tries  it.]     Nay,  it  is  too  cunningly  and  firmly  woven. 

HlORDIS. 

[Rising.]  The  Norns1  weave  yet  more  cunningly;  their 
web  is  still  harder  to  unravel. 

Gunnar. 

Dark  are  the  ways  of  the  Mighty  Ones; — what  know 
we  of  them,  thou  or  I  ? 

HlORDIS. 

Yet  one  thing  I  know  surely:  that  to  both  of  us  must 
Sigurd's  life  be  baleful. 

[/I  pause;  Gunnar  stands  lost  in  thought. 

HlORDIS. 

[Who  has  been  silently  watching  him.]  Of  what  think- 
est  thou  ? 

Gunnar. 

Of  a  dream  I  had  of  late.  Methought  I  had  done  the 
deed  thou  era  vest;  Sigurd  lay  slain  on  the  earth;  thou 
didst  stand  beside  him,  and  thy  face  was  wondrous  pale. 
Then  said  I:  "Art  thou  glad,  now  that  I  have  done  thy 
will?"  But  thou  didst  laugh  and  answer:  "Blither 
should  I  be  didst  thou,  Gunnar,  lie  there  in  Sigurd's 
stead." 

1  The  "  Nornir  "  were  the  Fates  of  northern  mythology. 


act  in]    THE   VIKINGS   AT  HELGELAND         93 

HlORDIS. 

[With  forced  laugfiter.]  Ill  must  thou  know  mc  if  such 
a  senseless  dream  can  stay  thy  hand. 

Gunnar. 
Tell  me,  Hiordis,  what  thinkest  thou  of  this  hall  ? 

HlORDIS. 

To  speak  truly,  Gunnar,  sometimes  it  seems  to  me  too 
strait  and  narrow. 

Gunnar. 
Ay,  ay,  so  I  have  thought;   we  are  one  too  many. 

HlORDIS. 

Two,  mayhap. 
i 

Gunnar. 

[Who  has  not  Jieard  Iter  last  words.]  But  that  shall  be 
set  right. 

HlORDIS. 

[Looks  at  him  interrogatively.]  Set  right?  Then  thou 
art  minded  to ? 

Gunnar. 

To  fit  out  my  warships  and  put  to  sea;  I  will  win  back 
flic  honour  I  have  lost  because  thou  wast  dearer  to  me 
than  all  beside. 

HlORDIS. 

[Thoughtfully.]  Thou  wilt  put  to  sea  ?  Ay,  so  it  may 
be  best  for  us  both. 


94        THE   VIKINGS   AT   HELGELAND     [act  hi 

GUNNAR. 

Even  from  the  day  we  sailed  from  Iceland,  I  saw  that  it 
would  go  ill  with  us.  Thy  soul  is  strong  and  proud;  there 
are  times  when  I  well-nigh  fear  thee;  yet,  it  is  strange 
— chiefly  for  that  do  I  hold  thee  so  dear.  Dread  goes 
forth  from  thee  like  a  spell;  methinks  thou  couldst  lure 
me  to  the  blackest  deeds,  and  all  would  seem  good  to  me 
that  thou  didst  crave.  [Shaking  his  head  reflectively.] 
Unfathomable  is  the  Norn's  rede;  Sigurd  should  have 
been  thy  husband. 

Hiordis. 
[Vehemently.]     Sigurd ! 

GUNNAR. 

Yes,  Sigurd.  Vengeance  and  hatred  blind  thee,  else 
wouldst  thou  prize  him  better.  Had  I  been  like  Sigurd, 
I  could  have  made  life  glad  for  thee. 

Hiordis. 

[With  strong  but  suppressed  emotion.]  That — that 
deemest  thou  Sigurd  could  have  done  ? 

Gunnar. 
He  is  strong  of  soul,  and  proud  as  thou  to  boot. 

Hiordis. 

[Violently.]  If  that  be  so — [Collecting  herself.]  No 
matter,  no  matter!  [With  a  wild  outburst.]  Gunnar, 
take  Sigurd's  life! 

Gunnar. 
Never! 


act  in]    THE  VIKINGS   AT  HELGELAND        95 

HlORDIS. 

By  fraud  and  falsehood  thou  mad'st  me  thy  wife — that 
shall  be  forgotten!  Five  joyless  years  have  I  spent  in 
this  house— all  shall  be  forgotten  from  the  day  when 
Sigurd  lives  no  more! 

Gunnar. 

No  harm  shall  e'er  befall  him  from  my  hand.  [Shrinks 
back  involuntarily.]     Hiordis,  Hiordis,  tempt  me  not! 

HlORDIS. 

Then  must  I  find  another  avenger;  not  long  shall 
Sigurd  mock  at  me  and  thee!  [Clenching  her  hands  in 
convulsive  rage.]  With  her  —  that  simpleton— with  her 
mayhap  he  is  even  now  sitting  alone,  dallying,  and  mak- 
ing sport  of  us;  speaking  of  the  bitter  wrong  that  was 
done  me  when  in  thy  stead  he  bore  me  away;  telling  how 
he  laughed  over  his  guile  as  he  stood  in  the  mirk  of  my 
bower,  and  I  knew  him  not! 

Gunnar. 
Nay,  nay,  he  does  not  so! 

Hiordis. 

[Firmly.]  Sigurd  and  Dagny  must  die!  1  cannot  draw 
breath  till  they  two  are  gone!  [Comes  close  up  to  him, 
with  sparkling  eyes,  and  speaks  passionately,  but  in  a 
whisper.]  Wouldst  thou  help  me  to  that,  Gunnar, 
then  should  I  live  in  love  with  thee;  then  should  I  clasp 
thee  in  such  warm  and  wild  embraces  as  thou  dream'st 
not  of. 

Gunnar. 

[Wavering.]     Hiordis!     Wouldst  thou ? 


96        THE  VIKINGS  AT   HELGELAND     [act  hi 

HlORDIS. 

Set  thy  hand  to  the  work,  Gunnar — and  the  heavy  days 
shall  be  past.  No  longer  will  I  quit  the  hall  when  thou 
comest,  no  longer  speak  harsh  things  and  quench  thy 
smile  when  thou  art  glad.  I  will  clothe  me  in  furs  and 
costly  silken  robes.  When  thou  goest  to  war,  I  will  fol- 
low thee;  when  thou  ridest  forth  in  peace,  I  will  ride  by 
thy  side.  At  the  feast  I  will  sit  by  thee  and  fill  thy  horn, 
and  drink  to  thee  and  sing  fair  songs  to  make  glad  thy 
heart ! 

Gunnar. 

[Almost  overcome.]     Is  it  true?     Thou  wouldst 

Hiordis. 

More  than  that,  trust  me,  ten  times  more!  Give  me 
but  revenge!     Revenge  on   Sigurd   and    Dagny,   and   I 

will [Stops  as  she  sees  the  door  open.]     Dagny — 

comest  thou  here! 

Dagny. 

[From  the  back.]  Haste  thee,  Gunnar!  Call  thy  men 
to  arms! 

Gunnar. 

To  arms!     Against  whom? 

Dagny. 

Kare  the  Peasant  is  coming,  and  many  outlaws  with 
him ;  he  means  thee  no  good ;  Sigurd  has  once  barred  his 
Way;   but  who  can  tell 

Gunnar. 
[Moved.]     Sigurd  has  done  this  for  me! 


. 


act  in]     THE   VIKINGS  AT  HELGELAND        97 

Dagny. 
Sigurd  is  ever  thy  faithful  friend. 

GUNNAR. 

And  we,  Hiordis— we,  who  thought  to !     It  is  as 

I  say— there  is  witchcraft  in  all  thy  speech;  no  deed  but 
seemeth  fair  to  me,  when  thou  dost  name  it. 

Dagny. 
[Astonished.]     What  meanest  thou? 

Gunnar. 

Nothing,  nothing!  I  thank  thee  for  thy  tidings,  Dag- 
ny ;  I  go  to  gather  my  men  together.  [  Turns  towards  tlie 
door,  but  stops  and  comes  forward  again.]  Tell  me— how 
goes  it  with  Ornulf  ? 

Dagny. 

[Bowing  her  head.]  Ask  not  of  him.  Yesterday  he 
bore  Thorolf's  body  to  the  ships;  now  he  is  raising  a  grave- 
mound  on  the  shore;— there  shall  his  sons  be  laid 

[Gunnar  goes  out  by  the  back  in  silence. 

Dagny. 

Until  evening  there  is  no  danger.  [Coming  nearer.] 
Hiordis,  I  have  another  errand  in  thy  house;  it  is  to  thee 
I  come. 

Hiordis. 
To  me  ?     After  all  that  befell  yesterday  ? 


98        THE   VIKINGS   AT  HELGELAND     [act  hi 

Dagny. 

Even  because  of  that.  Hiordis,  foster-sister,  do  not 
hate  me;  forget  the  words  that  sorrow  and  evil  spirits 
placed  in  my  mouth;  forgive  me  all  the  wrong  I  did  thee; 
for.  trust  me,  I  am  now  tenfold  more  hapless  than  thou! 

Hiordis. 
Hapless — thou!     Sigurd's  wife! 

Dagny. 

It  was  m  y  doing,  all  that  befell — the  stirring  up  cf 
strife,  and  Thorolf's  death,  and  all  the  scorn  that  fell 
upon  Gunnar  and  thee.  Mine  is  all  the  guilt!  Woe 
upon  me! — I  have  lived  so  happily;  but  after  this  day  I 
shall  never  know  joy  again. 

Hiordis. 

[As  if  seized  by  a  sudden  thought.]  But  before — in 
these  five  long  years — all  that  time  hast  thou  been  happy  ? 

Dagny. 
Canst  thou  doubt  it  ? 

Hiordis. 
Yesterday  I  doubted  it  not;   but 

Dagny. 

What  meanest  thou  ? 

Hiordis. 
Nay,  'tis  nought;   let  us  speak  of  other  matters. 


act  in]     THE  VIKINGS   AT  HELGELAND        99 

Dagny. 

No  truly.     Hiordis,  tell  me ! 

Hiordis. 

It  will  profit  thee  little;  but  since  thou  wilt  have  it 
so [With  a  malignant  expression.]  Canst  thou  re- 
member once,  over  in  Iceland — we  had  followed  with 
Ornulf  thy  father  to  the  Council,  and  we  sat  with  our 
playmates  in  the  Council  Hall,  as  is  the  manner  of 
women.     Then  came  two  strangers  into  the  hall. 

Da*gny. 

Sigurd  and  Gunnar. 

Hiordis. 

They  greeted  us  in  courtly  fashion,  and  sat  on  the  bench 
beside  us;  and  there  passed  between  us  much  merry  talk. 
There  were  some  who  must  needs  know  why  these  two 
vikings  came  thither,  and  if  they  were  not  minded  to  take 
them  wives  there  in  the  island.  Then  said  Sigurd: 
'  'Twill  be  hard  for  me  to  find  the  woman  that  shall  be 
to  my  mind."  Ornulf  laughed,  and  said  there  was  no 
lack  of  high-born  and  well-dowered  women  in  Iceland; 
but  Sigurd  answered:  "The  warrior  needs  a  high-souled 
wife.  She  whom  I  choose  must  not  rest  content  with  a 
humble  lot;  no  honour  must  seem  too  high  for  her  to 
strive  for;  gladly  must  she  follow  me  a-viking;  war-weed 
must  she  wear;  she  must  egg  me  on  to  strife,  and  never 
blink  her  eyes  where  sword-blades  lighten;  for  if  she  be 
faint-hearted,  scant  honour  will  befall  me."  Is  it  not 
true,  so  Sigurd  spake? 

Dagny. 

[Hesitatingly.]     True,  he  did — but 


100      THE  VIKINGS   AT   HELGELAND     [act  hi 

HlORDIS. 

Such  was  she  to  be,  the  woman  who  could  make  life 
fair  to  him;  and  then — [With  a  scornful  smile]  then  he 
chose   thee! 

Dagny. 

[Starting,  as  in  pain.]    Ha,  thou  wouldst  say  that ? 

HlORDIS. 

Doubtless  thou  hast  proved  thyself  proud  and  high- 
souled;  hast  claimed  honour  of  all,  that  Sigurd  might  be 
honoured  in  thee — is  it  not  so  ? 

Dagny. 

Nay,  Hiordis,  but 

HlORDIS. 

Thou  hast  egged  him  on  to  great  deeds,  followed  him 
in  war- weed,  and  joyed  to  be  where  the  strife  raged  hot- 
test— hast  thou  not  ? 

Dagny. 

[Deeply  moved.]     No,  no! 

HlORDIS. 

Hast  thou,  then,  been  faint  of  heart,  so  that  Sigurd  has 
been  put  to  shame  ? 

Dagny. 

[Overwhelmed.]     Hiordis,  Hiordis! 


act  in]     THE   VIKINGS   AT   HELGELAND       101 

HlORDIS. 

[Smiling  scnrtifull;/.]     Yet  thy  lot  has  been  a  happy  one 
all  these  years!     Think'st  thou  that  Sigurd  can  say  the 


same 


Dagny. 

Enough,  enough.  Woe  is  me!  thou  hast  made  me  see 
myself  too  clearly. 

HlORDIS. 

A  jesting  word,  and  straightway  thou  art  in  tears! 
Think  no  more  of  it.  Look  what  I  have  done  to-day. 
[Takes  some  arrows  from  the  table.]  Are  they  not  keen 
and  biting — feel!  I  know  well  how  to  sharpen  arrows, 
do  I  not? 

Dagny. 

And  to  use  them  too;  thou  strikest  surely,  Hiordis! 
All  this  thou  hast  said  to  me—I  had  never  thought  of  it 

before.     [M ore  vehemently .]     But  that  Sigurd !    That 

for  all  these  years  I  should  have  made  his  life  heavy  and 
unhonoured; — no,  no,  it  cannot  be  true! 

HlORDIS. 

Nay  now,  comfort  thee,  Dagny;  indeed  it  is  not  true. 
Were  Sigurd  of  the  same  mind  as  in  former  days,  it  might 
be  true  enough;  for  then  was  his  whole  soul  bent  on  be- 
ing the  foremost  man  in  the  land; — now  he  is  content  with 
a  lowlier  lot. 

Dagny. 

No,  Hiordis;  Sigurd  is  high-souled  now  as  ever;  I  see 
it  well,  I  am  not  the  right  mate  for  him.  He  has  hidden 
it  from  me;    but  it  shall  be  so  no  longer. 


102      THE   VIKINGS  AT  HELGELAND     [act  hi 

HlORDIS. 

What  wilt  thou  do  ? 

Dagny. 

I  will  no  longer  hang  like  a  clog  upon  his  feet;    I  will 
be  a  hindrance  to  him  no  longer. 

HlORDIS. 

Then  thou  wilt ? 

Dagny. 
Peace;   some  one  comes! 

A  House-carl  enters  from  the  back 

The  Carl. 
Sigurd  Viking  is  coming  to  the  hall. 

HlORDIS. 

Sigurd!     Then  call  Gunnar  hither. 

The  Carl. 

Gunnar  has  ridden  forth  to  gather  his  neighbours  to- 
gether;   for  Kare  the  Peasant  would 

HlORDIS. 

Good,  good,  I  know  it;  go !     [  The  Carl  goes.     To  Dag- 
ny, who  is  also  going.]     Whither  wilt  thou  ? 

Dagny. 

I  will  not  meet  Sigurd.     Too  well  I  feel  that  we  must 
part;    but  to  meet  him    n  o  w — no,  no,  I  cannot! 

[Goes  out  to  the  left. 


act  in]    THE   VIKINGS  AT  HELGELAND       103 

HlORDIS. 

[Looks  after  her  in  silence  for  a  moment.]     And  it  was 

she  I  would  have [Completes  her  thought  by  a  glance 

at  tlie  bow-string.]  That  had  been  a  poor  revenge; — nay, 
I  have  cut  deeper  now!  'Tis  hard  to  die,  but  sometimes 
harder  still  to  live! 

Sigurd  enters  from  tlie  back. 

HlORDIS. 

Belike  it  is  Gunnar  thou  seekest;   be  seated,  he  will  be 
here  even  now.  [j[>  going. 

Sigurd. 
Nay,  stay;   it  is  thee  I  seek,  rather  than  him. 

HlORDIS. 

Me? 

Sigurd. 
And  'tis  well  I  find  thee  alone. 

HlORDIS. 

If  thou  comest  to  mock  me,  it  would  sure  be  no  hin- 
drance to  thee  though  the  hall  were  full  of  men  and 
women. 

Sigurd. 
Ay,  ay,  well  I  know  what  thoughts  thou  hast  of  me. 

HlORDIS. 

[Bitterly.]  I  do  thee  wrong  mayhap!  Nay,  nay, 
Sigurd,  thou  hast  been  as  a  poison  to  all  my  days.     Be- 


104      THE   VIKINGS  AT  HELGELAND     [act  hi 

think  thee  who  it  was  that  wrought  that  shameful  guile; 
who  it  was  that  sat  by  my  side  in  the  bower,  feigning  love, 
with  the  laugh  of  cunning  in  his  heart;  who  it  was  that 
flung  me  forth  to  Gunnar,  since  for  him  I  was  good 
enough,  forsooth — and  .then  sailed  away  with  the  woman 
he  held  dear! 

Sigurd. 

Man's  will  can  do  this  thing  and  that;  but  fate  rules 
in  the  deeds  that  shape  our  lives — so  has  it  gone  with  us 
twain. 

Hiordis. 

True  enough;  evil  Norns  hold  sway  over  the  world; 
but  their  might  is  little  if  they- find  not  helpers  in  our  own 
heart.  Happy  is  he  who  has  strength  to  battle  with  the 
Norn — and  it  is  that  I  have  now  in  hand. 

Sigurd. 

What  mean'st  thou  ? 

Hiordis. 

I  will  venture  a  trial  of  strength  against  those — those 
who  are  over  me.  But  let  us  talk  no  more  of  this ;  I  have 
much  to  do  to-day.  [She  seats  herself  at  the  table. 

Sigurd. 

[After  a  short  pause.]  Thou  makest  good  weapons  for 
Gunnar. 

Hiordis. 

[With  a  quiet  smile.]  Not  for  Gunnar,  but  against 
thee.  / 


act  in]    THE  VIKINGS   AT  HELGELAND       105 

Sigurd. 
Most  like  it  is  the  same  thing. 

Hiordis. 
Ay,  most  like  it  is;   for  if  I  be  a  match  for  the  Norn, 

then  sooner  or  later  shalt  thou  and  Gunnar [Breaks 

off,  leans  backivards  against  tlw  table,  looks  at  him  with  a 
.smile,  and  says  irith  an  altered  ring  in  Iter  voice:]  Wouldst 
know  the  thought  that  sometimes  comes  to  me?  Oft 
have  I  made  it  my  pastime  to  limn  pleasant  pictures  in 
my  mind;  at  such  times  I  sit  and  close  my  eyes  and  think: 
Now  comes  Sigurd  the  Strong  to  the  isle;— he  will  burn 
us  in  our  house,  me  and  my  husband.  All  Gunnar's  men 
have*  fallen;  only  he  and  I  are  left;  they  set  light  to  the 
roof  from  without:— "A  bow-shot,"  cries  Gunnar,  "one 
bow-shot  may  save  us";— then  the  bow-string  breaks— 
"Hiordis,  cut  a  tress  of  thy  hair  and  make  of  it  a  bow- 
string—our life  is  at  stake."  But  then  I  laugh— "Let  it 
burn,  let  it  burn— to  me,  life  is  not  worth  a  wisp  of  hair!" 

Sigurd. 

There  is  a  strange  might  in  all  thy  speech. 

[Approaches  her. 

Hiordis. 
[Looks  coldly  at  him.]     Wouldst  sit  beside  me  ? 

Sigurd. 
Thou  deemest  my  heart  is  bitter  toward  thee.  'Tis 
the  last  time,  Hiordis,  that  we  shall  have  speech  together; 
there  is  something  that  gnaws  me  like  a  sore  sickness,  and 
in  this  wise  I  cannot  part  from  thee;  thou  must  know  me 
better. 


106      THE   VIKINGS   AT  HELGELAND     [act  in 

HlORDIS. 

What  wouldst  thou  ? 

Sigurd. 
Tell  thee  a  saga. 

HlORDIS. 

Is  it  sad  ? 

Sigurd. 
Sad,  as  life  itself. 

HlORDIS. 

[Bitterly.]     What  knowest  thou  of  the  sadness  of  life  ? 

Sigurd. 
Judge  when  my  saga  is  over. 

HlORDIS. 

Then  tell  it  me;    I  will  work  the  while. 

[He  sits  on  a  low  stool  to  her  right. 

Sigurd. 

Once  upon  a  time  there  were  two  young  vikings,  who 
set  forth  from  Norway  to  win  wealth  and  honour;  they 
had  sworn  each  other  friendship,  and  held  truly  together, 
how  far  soever  they  might  fare. 

HlORDIS. 

And  the  two  young  vikings  hight  Sigurd  and  Gunnar  ? 

Sigurd. 

Ay,  we  may  call  them  so.  At  last  they  came  to  Ice- 
land;   and  there  dwelt  an  old  chieftain,  who  had  come 


act  in]    THE   VIKINGS   AT  HELGELAND       107 

forth  from  Norway  in  King  Harald's  days.  He  had  two 
fair  women  in  his  house;  but  one,  his  foster-daughter, 
was  the  noblest,  for  she  was  wise  and  strong  of  soul;  and 
the  vikings  spoke  of  her  between  themselves,  and  never 
had  they  seen  a  fairer  woman,  so  deemed  they  both. 

Hiordis. 
[In  suspense.]     Both  ?     Wilt  thou  mock  me  ? 

Sigurd. 

r  Gunnar  thought  of  her  night  and  day,  and  that  did 
Sigurd  no  less;  but  both  held  their  peace,  and  no  man 
could  say  from  her  bearing  whether  Gunnar  found  favour 
in  her  eyes;  but  that  Sigurd  found  none,  that  was  easy  to 
discern. 

Hiordis. 
[Breathlessly.]     Go  on,  go  on ! 

Sigurd. 

Yet  ever  the  more  must  Sigurd  dream  of  her;  but  of 
that  wist  no  man.  Now  it  befell  one  evening  that  there 
was  a  drinking-feast;  and  there  did  that  proud  woman 
vow  that  no  man  should  possess  her  save  he  who  wrought 
a  mighty  deed,  which  she  named.  Then  high  beat  Si- 
gurd's heart  for  joy;  for  he  felt  within  him  the  strength  to 
do  that  deed.  But  Gunnar  took  him  apart  and  told  him 
of  his  love;— Sigurd  said  nought  of  his,  but  went  to 
the 

Hiordis. 

[Vefiemently.]  Sigurd,  Sigurd!  [Controlling  herself.] 
And  this  saga — is  it  true  ? 


108       THE   VIKINGS   AT   HELGELAND     [act  hi 

Sigurd. 

True  it  is.  One  of  us  had  to  yield;  Gunnar  was  my 
friend;  I  could  do  nought  else.  So  Gunnar  had  thee  to 
wife,  and  I  wedded  another  woman. 

Hiordis. 
And  didst  come  to  love  her! 

Sigurd. 

I  learned  to  prize  her;  but  one  woman  only  has  Sigurd 
loved,  and  that  is  she  who  frowned  upon  him  from  the 
first  day  they  met.  [Rises.]  Here  ends  my  saga;  and 
now  let  us  part. — Farewell,  Gunnar's  wife;  never  shall 
we  meet  again. 

Hiordis. 

[Springing  up.]  Stay,  stay!  Woe  to  us  both;  Sigurd, 
what  hast  thou  done  ? 

Sigurd. 
[Starting.]     I.  done  ?     What  ails  thee  ? 

Hiordis. 

And  all  this  dost  thou  tell  me  now!  But  no — it  can- 
not be  true! 

Sigurd. 

These  are  my  last  words  to  thee,  and  every  word  is 
true.  I  would  not  thou  shouldst  think  hardly  of  me, 
therefore  I  needs  must  speak. 


act  in]    THE   VIKINGS   AT  HELGELAND       109 

HlORDIS. 

[Involuntarily  clasps  her  hands  togetlier,  and  gazes  at 
him  in  voiceless  astonishment.]  Loved — loved  me — thou ! 
[VeJiemently,  coming  close  up  to  him.]  I  will  not  believe 
thee!  [Looks  hard  at  him,  and  bursts  forth  in  wild  grief.] 
Yes,  it  is  true,  and— hateful  for  us  both! 

[Hides  her  face  in  her  hands,  and  turns  away  from 
him. 

Sigurd. 
[Appalled.]     Hiordis! 

HlORDIS. 

[Softly,  struggling  with  tears  and  laughter.]     Nay,  heed 

me  not!     I  meant  but  this,  that [Lays  her  hand  on 

his  arm.]  Sigurd,  thou  hast  not  told  thy  saga  to  the  end; 
that  proud  woman  thou  didst  tell  of— she  returned  thy 
love ! 

Sigurd. 

[Starts  backwards.]     Thou  ? 

HlORDIS. 

[With  composure.]  Aye,  Sigurd,  I  have  loved  thee,  at 
last  I  understand  it.  Thou  sayest  I  was  ungentle  and 
short  of  speech  towards  thee;  what  wouldst  thou  have  a 
woman  do  ?  Could  I  offer  thee  my  love  ?  Then  had  I 
been  little  worthy  of  thee.  I  deemed  thee  ever  the  no- 
blest man  of  men;  and  then  to  know  thee  another's  hus- 
band—'twas that  caused  me  the  bitter  pain,  that  myself 
I  eould  not  understand! 

Sigurd. 

[Much  moved.]  A  baleful  web  has  the  Norn  woven 
around  us  twain. 


110      THE   VIKINGS   AT  HELGELAND     [actiii 

HlORDIS. 

The  blame  is  thine  own ;  bravely  and  firmly  it  becomes 
a  man  to  act.  When  I  set  that  hard  proof  for  him  who 
should  win  me,  my  thought  was  all  of  thee; — yet  couldst 
thou ! 

Sigurd. 

I  knew  Gunnar's  soul-sickness;  I  alone  could  heal  it; 
— was  there  aught  for  me  to  choose  ?  And  yet,  had  I 
known  what  I  now  know,  I  scarce  dare  answer  for  my- 
self;   for  great  is  the  might  of  love. 

HlORDIS. 

[With  animation.]  But  now,  Sigurd! — A  baleful  hap 
has  held  us  apart  all  these  years ;  now  the  knot  is  loosed ; 
the  days  to  come  shall  make  good  the  past  to  us. 

Sigurd. 

[Shaking  his  head.]  It  cannot  be;  thou  knowest  we 
must  part  again. 

HlORDIS. 

Nay,  we  must  not.  I  love  thee,  that  may  I  now  say 
unashamed;  for  my  love  is  no  mere  dalliance,  like  a  weak 
woman's;  were  I  a  man — by  all  the  Mighty  Ones,  I  could 
still  love  thee,  even  as  now  I  do!  Up  then,  Sigurd! 
Happiness  is  worth  a  daring  deed;  we  are  both  free  if  we 
but  will  it,  and  then  the  game  is  won. 

Sigurd. 
Free?     What  meanest  thou? 


act  in]    THE  VIKINGS  AT  HELGELAND       111 

HlORDIS. 

What  is  Dagny  to  thee  ?  What  can  she  be  to  thee  ? 
No  more  than  I  count  Gunnar  in  my  secret  heart.  What 
matter  though  two  worthless  lives  be  wrecked  ? 

Sigurd. 
Hibrdis,  Hibrdis! 

HlORDIS. 

Let  Gunnar  stay  where  he  is;  let  Dagny  fare  with  her 
father  to  Iceland :  I  will  follow  thee  in  harness  of  steel, 
whithersoever  thou  wendest.  [Sigurd  makes  a  move- 
ment.] Not  as  thy  wife  will  I  follow  thee;  for  I  have 
belonged  to  another,  and  the  woman  lives  that  has 
lain  by  thy  side.  No,  Sigurd,  not  as  thy  wife,  but 
like  those  mighty  women,  like  Hilde's  sisters,1  will  I 
follow  thee,  and  fire  thee  to  strife  and  to  manly  deeds, 
so  that  thy  name  shall  be  heard  over  every  land.  In 
the  sword-game  will  I  stand  by  thy  side;  I  will  fare 
forth  among  thy  warriors  in  the  storm  and  on  the 
viking-raid;  and  when  thy  death-song  is  sung,  it  shall 
tell  of  Sigurd  and  Hiordis  in  one! 

Sigurd. 

Once  was  that  my  fairest  dream;  now,  it  is  too  late. 
Gunnar  and  Dagny  stand  between  us,  and  that  by  right. 
I  crushed  my  new-born  love  for  Gunnar's  sake;— how 
great  soever  my  suffering,  I  cannot  undo  my  deed.  And 
Dagny— full  of  faith  and  trust  she  left  her  home  and 
kindred;  never  must  she  dream  that  I  longed  for 
Hibrdis  as  often  as  she  took  me  to  her  breast. 
1  The  Valkyries. 


112       THE  VIKINGS   AT  HELGELAND     [act  hi 

HlORDIS. 

And  for  such  a  cause  wilt  thou  lay  a  burden  on  all  thy 
life!  To  what  end  hast  thou  strength  and  might,  and 
therewith  all  noble  gifts  of  the  mind  ?  And  deemest  thou 
it  can  now  beseem  me  to  dwell  beneath  Gunnar's  roof? 
Nay,  Sigurd,  trust  me,  there  are  many  tasks  awaiting  such 
a  man  as  thou.  Erik  is  king  in  Norway — do  thou  rise 
against  him!  Many  goodly  warriors  will  join  thee  and 
swear  thee  fealty;  with  unconquerable  might  will  we 
press  onward,  and  fight  and  toil  unresting,  until  thou  art 
seated  on  the  throne  of  Harfager! 

Sigurd. 

Hiordis,  Hiordis,  so  have  I  dreamt  in  my  wild  youth; 
let  it  be  forgotten — tempt  me  not! 

Hiordis. 

[With  dignity.]  It  is  the  Norn's  will  that  we  two  shall 
hold  together;  it  cannot  be  altered.  Plainly  now  I  see 
my  task  in  life:  to  make  thee  famous  over  all  the  world. 
Thou  hast  stood  before  me  every  day,  every  hour  of  my 
life;  I  sought  to  tear  thee  out  of  my  mind,  but  I  lacked  the 
might;  now  it  is  needless,  now  that  I  know  thou  lovest  me. 

Sigurd. 

[With  forced  coldness.]  If  that  be  so — then  know — 
I  h  a  v  e  loved  thee;  it  has  passed  now; — I  have  forgot 
those  days. 

Hiordis. 

Sigurd,  in  that  thou  liest!     So  much  at  least  am 
worth,  that  if  thou  hast  loved  me  once,  thou  canst  never 
forget  it. 


act  in]    THE   VIKINGS   AT  HELGELAND       113 

Sigurd. 
[Veliemently.]     I  must;    and  now  I  will. 

Hiordis. 

So  be  it;  but  thou  canst  not.  Thou  wilt  seek  to 
hinder  me,  but  in  vain;  ere  evening  falls,  Gunnar  and 
Dagny  shall  know  all. 

Sigurd. 

Ha,  that  wilt  thou  never  do! 

Hiordis. 
That  will  I  do! 

Sigurd. 

Then  must  I  know  thee  ill;  high-souled  have  I  ever 
deemed  thee. 

Hiordis. 

Evil  days  breed  evil  thoughts;  too  great  has  been  thy 
trust  in  me.  I  will,  I  must,  go  forth  by  thy  side — forth 
to  face  life  and  strife;  Gunnar's  roof-tree  is  too  low 
for  me. 

Sigurd. 

[With  empliasis.]  But  honour  between  man  and  man 
hast  thou  highly  prized.  There  lack  not  grounds  for 
strife  between  me  and  Gunnar;  say,  now,  that  he  fell 
by  my  hand — wouldst  thou  still  make  all  known  and 
follow  me  ? 

Hiordis. 
[Starting.]     Wherefore  askest  thou? 


114       THE  VIKINGS   AT   HELGELAND     [act  in 

Sigurd. 

Answer  me  first:  what  wouldst  thou  do,  were  I  to  give 
thy  husband  his  bane. 

Hiordis. 

[Looks  hard  at  him.]  Then  must  I  keep  silence  and 
never  rest  until  I  had  seen  thee  dead. 

Sigurd. 
[With  a  smile.]     It  is  well,  Hiordis — I  knew  it. 

Hiordis. 
[Hastily.]     But  it  can  never  come  to  pass! 

Sigurd. 

It  must  come  to  pass;  thou  thyself  hast  cast  the  die 
even  now  for  Gunnar's  life  and  mine. 

[Gunnar,   with  some  House-carls,  enters  from  the 
back. 

Gunnar. 

[Gloomily,  to  Hiordis.]  See  now;  the  seed  thou  hast 
sown  is  sprouting! 

Sigurd. 
[Approaching.]     What  is  amiss  with  thee  ? 

Gunnar. 

Sigurd,  is  it  thou  ?  What  is  amiss  ?  Nought  but  what 
I  might  well  have  foreseen.  As  soon  as  Dagny,  thy  wife, 
had  brought  tidings  of  Kare  the  Peasant,  I  took  horse  and 
rode  to  my  neighbours  to  seek  help  against  him. 


act  in]    THE   VIKINGS   AT   HELGELAND       115 

HlORDIS. 

[Eagerly.]     Well  ? 

GUNNAR. 

I  was  answered  awry  where'er  I  came:  my  dealings 
with  Kare  had  been  little  to  my  honour,  it  was  said; — aye, 
and  other  things  were  said  to  boot,  that  I  will  not  utter— 
lama  dishonoured  man ;  I  am  thought  to  have  done  a 
dastard  deed;  men  hold  it  shame  to  make  common  cause 
with  me. 

Sigurd. 
It  shall  not  long  be  held  shame;    ere  evening  comes, 
thou  shalt  have  men  enough  to  face  Kare. 

Gunnar. 

Sigurd ! 

Hiordis. 
[In  a  bw  voice,  triumphantly.]     Ha,  I  knew  it  well ! 

Sigurd. 
[With  forced  resolution.]  But  thereafter  is  the  peace 
between  us  at  an  end;  for  hearken  to  my  words,  Gunnar 
Headman— thou  hast  slain  Thorolf,  my  wife's  kinsman, 
a n. I  therefore  do  I  challenge  thee  to  single  combat1  to- 
morrow at  break  of  day. 

[Hiordis,  in  violent  inward  emotion,  makes  a  stride 
towards  Sigurd,  but  collects  herself  and  remains 
standing  motionless  during  the  following . 

Gunnar. 

[In   extreme   astonishment.]     To    single    combat ! 

Me!— Thou  art  jesting,  Sigurd! 

1  Holmgang—see  note,  p.  36. 


116       THE   VIKINGS   AT   HELGELAND     [act  hi 

Sigurd. 

Thou  art  lawfully  challenged  to  single  combat;  'twill 
be  a  game  for  life  or  death;   one  of  us  must  fall! 

Gunnar. 

[Bitterly.]  Ha,  I  understand  it  well.  When  I  came, 
thou  didst  talk  with  Hiordis  alone;  she  has  goaded  thee 
afresh ! 

Sigurd. 

Mayhap.  [Half  towards  Hiordis.]  A  high-souled 
woman  must  ever  guard  her  husband's  honour.  [To  the 
men  in  the  background.]  And  do  ye,  House-carls,  now  go 
to  Gunnar's  neighbours,  and  say  to  them  that  to-morrow 
he  is  to  ply  sword -strokes  with  me;  none  dare  call  that 
man  a  dastard  who  bears  arms  against  Sigurd  Viking! 
[The  House-carls  go  out  by  the  back. 

Gunnar. 

[Goes  quickly  up  to  Sigurd  and  presses  his  hands,  in 
strong  emotion.]  Sigurd,  my  brave  brother,  now  I  under- 
stand thee!  Thou  venturest  thy  life  for  my  honour, 
as  of  old  for  my  happiness! 

Sigurd. 

Thank  my  wife  for  that;  she  has  the  main  part  in  what 
I  do.     To-morrow  at  break  of  day 

Gunnar. 

I  will  meet  thee.  [Tenderly.]  Foster-brother,  wilt 
thou  have  a  good  blade  of  me  ?     'Tis  a  gift  of  price. 


act  in]    THE   VIKINGS   AT  HELGELAND       117 
Sigurd. 

I  thank  thee;    but  let  it  hang.— Who  knows  if  next 
evening  I  may  have  any  use  for  it. 

Gunnar. 
[Shakes  his  hand.]     Farewell,  Sigurd! 

Sigurd. 

Again  farewell,  and  fortune  befriend  thee  this  night! 
[They  part.     Gunn ar  goes  out  to  the  right.     Sigurd 
casts  a  glance  at  Hiordis,  and  goes  out  by  the  back. 

HlORDIS. 

[After  a  pause,  softly  and  thoughtfully.]  To-morrow 
they  fight!  Which  will  fall  ?  [After  a  moment's  silence, 
she  bursts  forth  as  if  seized  by  a  strong  resolution.]  Let 
fall  who  will— Sigurd  and  I  shall  still  be  together. 


ACT   FOURTH 

By  the  coast.  It  is  evening;  the  moon  breaks  forth  now 
and  again,  from  among  dark  and  ragged  storm-clouds. 
At  the  back,  a  black  grave-mound,  newly  heaped  up. 

Ornulf  sits  on  a  stone,  in  front  on  the  right,  his  head  bare, 
his  elbows  resting  on  his  knees,  and  his  face  buried  in 
his  hands.  His  men  are  digging  at  the  mound; 
some  give  light  with  pine-knot  torches.  After  a  short 
pause,  Sigurd  and  Dagny  enter  from  the  boat-house, 
where  a  wood  fire  is  burning. 

Dagny. 

[In  a  loiv  voice.]  There  sits  he  still.  [Holding  Sigurd 
back.]     Nay,  speak  not  to  him. 

Sigurd. 

Thou  say 'st  well ;  it  is  too  soon;  best  leave  him  to  him- 
self. 

Dagny. 

[Goes  over  to  the  right,  and  gazes  at  her  father  in  quiet 
sorrow.]  So  strong  was  he  yesterday  when  he  bore 
Thorolf's  body  on  his  back;  strong  was  he  as  he  helped 
to  heap  the  grave-mound ;  but  when  they  were  all  laid  to 
rest,  and  earth  and  stones  piled  over  them — then  the  sor- 
row seized  him;  then  seemed  it  of  a  sudden  as  though 
his  fire  were  quenched.  [Dries  her  tears.]  Tell  me, 
Sigurd,  when  thinkest  thou  to  fare  homeward  to  Iceland  ? 

118 


act  iv]    THE   VIKINGS   AT  HELGELAND        119 
Sigurd. 

So  soon  as  the  storm  abates,  and  my  dealings  with 
riinnar  are  ended. 

Dagny. 

And    then    wilt    thou    buy    land    and    build    thee   a 
)mestead,  and  go  a-viking  no  more  ? 

Sigurd. 
Yes,  yes,— that  have  I  promised  thee. 

Dagny. 

And  I  may  believe  without  doubt  that  Hiordis  spoke 
falsely  when  she  said  that  I  was  unworthy  to  be  thy  wife  ? 

Sigurd. 
Yes,  yes,  Dagny,  trust  thou  to  my  word. 

Dagny. 

Then  am  I  glad  again,  and  will  try  to  forget  all  the 
evil  that  here  has  been  wrought.     In  the  long  winter 
evenings  we  will  talk  together  of  Gunnar  and  Hiordis 
and 

Sigurd. 

Nay,  Dagny,  wouldst  thou  have  things  go  well  with 
us,  never  do  thou  speak  Hiordis'  name  when  once  we  are 
at  home  in  Iceland. 

Dagny. 

[Mildly  upbraiding  him.]  Unjust  is  thy  hatred  tow- 
ards her.     Sigurd,  Sigurd,  it  is  little  like  thee. 


120       THE  VIKINGS   AT  HELGELAND    [act  iv 

One  of  the  Men. 
[Approaching.]    There  now,  the  mound  is  finished. 

Ornulf. 
[As  if  awaking.]     The  mound  ?     Is  it — ay,  ay 

Sigurd. 
Now  speak  to  him,  Dagny. 

Dagny. 

[Approaching.]     Father,  it  is  cold  out  here;  the  storm 
is  rising  with  the  night. 

Ornulf. 

Nay,  never  heed  it;    the  mound  is  close-heaped  and 
crannyless;  they  lie  warm  in  there. 

Dagny. 
Ay,  but  thou 

Ornulf. 
I?     I  am  not  cold. 

Dagny. 

Nought  hast  thou  eaten  to-day;   wilt  thou  not  go  in? 
The  supper-board  stands  ready. 

Ornulf. 
Let  the  supper-board  stand;    I  have  no  hunger. 

Dagny. 

But  to  sit  here  so  still — trust  me,  thou  wilt  take  hurt 
of  it;   thou  art  ever  wont  to  be  stirring. 


act  iv]    THE   VIKINGS   AT  HELGELAND        121 

Ornulf. 

May  be -so;  there  is  somewhat  that  crushes  my  breast; 
I  cannot  draw  breath. 

[He  again  hides  his  face  in  his  hands.     A  pause. 
Dagny  seats  herself  beside  him. 

Dagny. 

To-morrow  wilt  thou  make  ready  thy  ship  and  set 
forth  for  Iceland  ? 

Ornulf. 

[Without  looking  up.]  What  should  I  do  there  ?  Nay, 
I  will  to  my  sons. 

Dagny. 

[With  pain.]     Father! 

Ornulf. 

[Raises  his  head.]  Go  in  and  let  me  sit  here;  when  the 
storm  has  played  with  me  for  a  night  or  two,  the  game 
will  be  over,  I  ween. 

Sigurd. 

Thou  canst  not  think  to  deal  thus  with  thyself. 

Ornulf. 

Dost  marvel  that  I  fain  would  rest  ?  My  day's  work 
is  done;  I  have  laid  my  sons  in  their  grave-mound. 
[Vehemently.]     Go  from  me! — Go,  go! 

[He  hides  his  face. 

Sigurd. 
[Softly,  to  Dagny,  who  rises.]     Let  him  sit  yet  awhile. 


122       THE   VIKINGS   AT   HELGELAND    [act  iv 

Dagny. 

Nay,  I  have  one  rede  yet  untried; — I  know  him.  [To 
Ornulf.]  Thy  day's  work  done,  say'st  thou  ?  Nay,  that 
it  is  not.  Thou  hast  laid  thy  sons  in  the  grave; — but  art 
thou  not  a  skald  ?  It  is  meet  that  thou  should  'st  sing 
their  memory. 

Ornulf. 

[Shaking  his  head.]  Sing?  Nay,  nay;  yesterday  I 
could  sing;    I  am  too  old  to-day. 

Dagny. 

But  needs  must  thou;  honourable  men  were  thy  sons, 
one  and  all;  a  song  must  be  made  of  them,  and  that  can 
none  of  our  kin  but  thou. 

Ornulf. 

[Looks  inquiringly  at  Sigurd.]  To  sing?  What 
thinkest    thou,    Sigurd  ? 

Sigurd. 
Meseems  it  is  but  meet;  thou  must  e'en  do  as  she  says. 

Dagny. 

Thy  neighbours  in  Iceland  will  deem  it  ill  done  when 
the  grave-ale  is  drunk  over  Ornulf's  children,  and  there 
is  no  song  to  sing  with  it.  Thou  hast  ever  time  enough 
to  follow  thy  sons. 

Ornulf. 

Well  well,  I  will  try  it;  and  thou,  Dagny,  give  heed, 
that  afterwards  thou  mayst  carve  the  song  on  staves. 


act  iv]    THE   VIKINGS   AT  HELGELAND        123 

The  men  approach  with  Die  torches,  forming  a  group 
around  him;  lie  is  silent  for  a  time,  reflecting;  then 
fie  says: 

BragiV  gift  is  bitter 
when  the  heart  is  broken; 
sorrow-laden  singer, 
singing,  suffers  sorely. 

Natheless,  since  the  Skald-god 
gave  me  skill  in  song-craft, 
in  a  lay  loud-ringing 
be  my  loss  lamented!  [Rises, 

» 

Ruthless  Norn2  and  wrathful 
wrecked  my  life  and  ravaged, 
wiled  away  my  welfare, 
wasted  Ornulf's  treasure. 

Sons  had  Ornulf  seven, 
by  the  great  gods  granted; — 
lonely  now  and  life-sick 
goes  the  greybeard,  sonless. 

Seven  sons  so  stately, 

bred  among  the  sword-blades, 

made  a  mighty  bulwark 

round  the  snow-locked  sea-king. 

Levelled  lies  the  bulwark, 
dead  my  sons  strong-hearted; 
gone  the  greybeard's  gladness, 
desolate  his  dwelling. 

1  Bragi,  the  god  of  poetry  and  eloquence. 

2  See  note,  p.  92. 


124       THE   VIKINGS   AT   HELGELAND    [act  iv 

Thorolf, — thou  my  last-born! 
'Mongst  the  bold  the  boldest! 
Soon  were  spent  my  sorrow 
so  but  thou  wert  left  me! 

Fair  thou  wast  as  springtide, 
fond  towards  thy  father, 
waxing  straight  and  stalwart 
to  so  wight  a  warrior. 

Dark  and  drear  his  death-wound 
leaves  my  life's  lone  evening; 
grief  hath  gripped  my  bosom 
as  'twixt  hurtling  targes.  g 

Nought  the  Norn  denied  me 
of  her  rueful  riches, 
showering  woes  unstinted 
over  Ornulf's  world-way. 

Weak  are  now  my  weapons. 
But,  were  god-might  given  me, 
one   thing  would  I  strive  for — 
on  the  Norn  to  venge  me! 

One  thing  would  I  toil  for — 
down  to  death  to  hurl  thee, 
Norn,  that  now  hast  left  me 
nought  but  yonder  grave-mound. 

Nought,  I  said  ?     Nay,  truly, 

somewhat  still  is  Ornulf's, 

since  of  SuttungV  mead-horn 

he  betimes  drank  deeply. 

[With  rising  enthusiasm. 

1  Suttung  was  a  giant  who  kept  guard  over  the  magic  mead  of 
poetical  inspiration. 


act  iv]    THE   VIKINGS   AT  HELGELAND        125 

Though  she  stripped  me  sonless, 
one  great  gift  she  gave  me — 
songcraft's  mighty  secret, 
skill  to  sing  my  sorrows. 

On  my  lips  she  laid  it, 
goodly  gift  of  songcraft; 
loud,  then,  let  my  lay  sound, 
e'en  where  they  are  lying! 

Hail,  my  stout  sons  seven! 
Hail,  as  homeward  ride  ye! 
Songcraft's  glorious  god-gift 
stauncheth  woe  and  wailing. 

[He  draws  a  deep  breath,  throws  back  the  hair  from 
his  brow,  and  says  calmly: 

So — so;  now  is  Ornulf  sound  and  strong  again.  [To 
the  men.]  Follow  me  to  the  supper-board,  lads;  heavy 
has  been  our  day's  work! 

[Goes  with  the  men  into  the  boat-house. 

Dagny. 

Praised  be  the  Mighty  Ones  on  high  that  gave  me  so 
good  a  rede.     [To  Sigurd.]     Wilt  thou  not  go  in  ? 

Sigurd. 

Nay,  I  list  not  to.  Tell  me,  are  all  things  ready  for 
to-morrow? 

Dagny. 

They  are  ready;  a  silk-sewn  shroud  lies  on  the  bench; 
but  I  know  full  surely  that  thou  wilt  hold  thee  against 
Gunnar,  so  I  have  not  wept  over  it. 


126       THE   VIKINGS   AT   HELGELAND    [act  iv 

Sigurd. 

Grant  all  good  powers,  that  thou  mayest  never  weep 
for  my  sake.  [He  stops  and  looks  out. 

Dagny. 

What  art  thou  listening  to  ? 

Sigurd. 

Hear'st  thou  nought — y  onder? 

[Points  towards  the  left. 

Dagny. 

Ay,  there  goes  a  fearsome  storm  over  the  sea ! 

Sigurd. 

[Going  up  a  little  towards  the  background.]  There 
will  fall  hard  hailstones  in  that  storm.  [Shouts.]  Who 
comes  ? 

Kare  the  Peasant. 

[Without  on  the  left.]  Folk  thou  wotst  of,  Sigurd 
Viking ! 

Kare  the  Peasant,  with  a  band  of  armed  men,  enters 
from  the  left. 

Sigurd. 
Whither  would  ye  ? 

KAre. 
To  Gunnar's  hall. 

Sigurd. 
As  foemen  ? 


act  iv]    THE  VIKINGS   AT  HELGELAND        127 

KAre. 

Ay,  trust  me  for  that!  Thou  didst  hinder  me  before; 
but  now  I  ween  thou  wilt  scarce  do  the  like. 

-  * 
Sigurd. 

Maybe  not. 

KAre. 

I  have  heard  of  thy  challenge  to  Gunnar;  but  if  things 
go  to  my  mind,  weak  will  be  his  weapons  when  the  time 
comes  for  your  meeting. 

Sigurd. 

'Tis  venturesome  work  thou  goest  about;  take  heed 
for  thyself,  Peasant! 

KAre. 

[With  defiant  laughter.]  Leave  that  to  me;  wouldst 
thou  tackle  thy  ship  to-night,  we  will  see  that  thou  hast 
light  enow! — Come,  all  my  men;  here  goes  the  way. 

[TJiey  go  off  to  the  right,  at  the  back. 

Dagny. 
Sigurd,  Sigurd,  this  misdeed  must  thou  hinder. 

Sigurd. 

[Goes  quickly  to  the  door  of  the  hut,  and  calls  in.]  Up 
from  the  board,  Ornulf;  take  vengeance  on  Kare  the 
Peasant ! 

Ornulf. 

[Comes  out,  with  the  rest.]  Kare  the  Peasant — where 
is  he? 


128       THE  VIKINGS   AT  HELGELAND    [act  iv 

Sigurd. 

He  is  making  for  Gunnar's  hall  to  burn  it  over  their 
heads. 

Ornulf. 

Ha-ha — let  him  do  as  he  will ;  so  shall  I  be  avenged  on 
Gunnar  and  Hibrdis,  and  afterwards  I  can  deal  with 
Kare. 

Sigurd. 

Nay,  that  rede  avails  not ;  wouldst  thou  strike  at  Kare, 
thou  must  seek  him  out  to-night;  for  when  his  misdeed 
is  done,  he  will  take  to  the  mountains.  I  have  chal- 
lenged Gunnar  to  meet  me,  man  to  man;  him  thou  hast 
safe  enough,  unless  I  myself — but  no  matter. — To-night 
he  must  be  shielded  from  his  foes;  it  would  ill  befit  thee 
to  let  so  vile  a  caitiff  as  Kare  rob  thee  of  thy  revenge. 

Ornulf. 

Thou  say'st  truly.  To-night  will  I  shield  the  slayer 
of  Thorolf;    but  to-morrow  he  must  die. 

Sigurd. 
He  or  I — doubt  not  of  that! 

Ornulf. 

Come  then,  to  take  vengeance  for  Ornulf  s  sons. 
[He  goes  out  with  his  men  by  the  back,  to  the  right. 

Sigurd. 

Dagny,  do  thou  follow  them; — I  must  bide  here;  for 
the  rumour  of  the  combat  is  already  abroad,  and  I  may 
not  meet  Gunnar  ere  the  time  comes.     But  thou — do 


act  iv]     THE  VIKINGS   AT   HELGELAND       129 

thou  keep  rein  on  thy  father;  he  must  go  honourably  to 
work;  in  Gunnar's  hall  there  are  many  women;  no  harm 
must  befall  Hiordis  or  the  rest. 

Dagny. 

Yes,  I  will  follow  them.  Thou  takest  thought  even 
for  Hiordis;    I  thank  thee  for  it. 

Sigurd. 
Go,  go,  Dagny! 

Dagny. 

I  go;  but  be  thou  at  ease  as  to  Hiordis;  she  has  gilded 
armour  in  her  bower,  and  will  know  how  to  shield  herself. 

Sigurd. 

That  deem  I  too;  but  go  thou  nevertheless;  guide  thy 
father's  course;  watch  over  all — and  over  Gunnar's  wife! 

Dagny. 

Trust  to  me.     Farewell,  till  we  meet  again! 

[She  follows  the  others. 

Sigurd. 

'Tis  the  first  time,  foster-brother,  that  I  stand  weapon- 
less whilst  thou  art  in  danger.  [Listens.]  I  hear  shouts 
and  sword-strokes; — they  are  already  at  the  hall.  [Goes 
towards  the  right,  but  stops  and  recoils  in  astonishment.] 
Hiordis!     Comes  she  hither! 

Hiordis  enters,  clad  in  a  slwrt  scarlet  kirtle,  with  gilded 
armour;  fielmet,  hauberk,  arm-plates,  and  greaves. 
Her  hair  is  flying  loose;  at  her  back  hangs  a 
quiver,  and  at  Iter  belt  a  small  shield.  She  has  in 
Jier  hand  the  bow  strung  with  her  hair. 


130       THE   VIKINGS   AT  HELGELAND     [act  iv 

HlORDIS. 

[Hastily  looking  behind  her,  as  though  in  dread  of  some- 
thing pursuing  her,  goes  close  up  to  Sigurd,  seizes  him  by 
the  arm,  and  whispers:]    Sigurd,  Sigurd,  canst  thou  see  it  ? 

Sigurd. 
What  ?     Where  ? 

HlORDIS. 

The  wolf  ther  e — close  behind  me;  it  does  not  move; 
it  glares  at  me  with  its  two  red  eyes.  It  is  my  wraith.1 
Sigurd!  Three  times  has  it  appeared  to  me;  that  bodes 
that  I  shall  surely  die  to-night! 

Sigurd. 
Hiordis,  Hiordis! 

HlORDIS. 

It  has  sunk  into  the  earth!  Aye,  aye,  now  it  has 
warned  me. 

Sigurd. 

Thou  art  sick;   come,  go  in  with  me. 

Hiordis. 
Nay,  here  will  I  bide;   I  have  but  little  time  left. 

Sigurd. 

What  has  befallen  thee  ? 

1  The  word  "wraith"  is  here  used  in  an  obviously  inexact  sense; 
but  the  wraith  seemed  to  be  the  nearest  equivalent  in  English  myth- 
ology to  the  Scandinavian  "fylgie,"  an  attendant  spirit,  often  re- 
garded as  a  sort  of  emanation  from  the  person  it  accompanied,  and 
sometimes  (as  in  this  case)  typifying  that  person's  moral  attributes. 


act  iv]     THE  VIKINGS   AT  HELGELAND       131 

HlORDIS. 

What  has  befallen  ?  That  know  I  not;  but  'twas  true 
what  thou  said'st  to-day,  that  Gunnar  and  Dagny  stand 
between  us;  we  must  away  from  them  and  from  life; 
then  can  we  be  together! 

Sigurd. 
We?     Ha,  thou  meanest . 

HlORDIS. 

[With  dignity.]  I  have  been  homeless  in  this  world 
from  that  day  thou  didst  take  another  to  wife.  That  was 
ill  done  of  thee!  All  good  gifts  may  a  man  give  to  his 
faithful  friend — all,  save  the  woman  he  loves;  for  if  he 
do  that,  he  rends  the  Norn's  secret  web,  and  two  lives 
are  wrecked.  An  unerring  voice  within  me  tells  me  I 
came  into  the  world  that  my  strong  soul  might  cheer  and 
uphold  thee  through  heavy  days,  and  that  thou  wert  born 
to  the  end  I  might  find  in  o  n  e  man  all  that  seemed  to 
me  great  and  noble;  for  this  I  know,  Sigurd — had  we  two 
held  together,  then  hadst  thou  become  more  famous  than 
all  others,  and  I  happier. 

Sigurd. 

It  avails  not  now  to  mourn.  Think'st  thou  'tis  a  merry 
life  that  awaits  me  ?  To  be  by  Dagny's  side  day  by  day, 
and  feign  a  love  my  heart  shrinks  from  ?  Yet  so  it  must 
be;   it  cannot  be  altered. 

HlORDIS. 

[In  a  growing  frenzy.]  It  shall  be  altered !  We 
must  out  of  this  life,  both  of  us!     Seest  thou  this  bow- 


132      THE  VIKINGS  AT  HELGELAND     [activ 

string?  With  it  can  I  surely  hit  my  mark;  for  I  have 
crooned  fair  sorceries  over  it!  [Places  an  arrow  in  the 
bow,  which  is  strung.]  Hark !  hark !  that  rushing  in  the 
air?  It  is  the  dead  men's  ride  to  Valhal:  I  have  be- 
witched them  hither; — we  two  will  join  them  in  their 
ride! 

Sigurd. 

[Shrinking  back.]     Hiordis,  Hiordis — I  fear  thee! 

Hiordis. 

[ Not  heeding  him.]  Our  fate  no  power  can  alter  now ! 
Oh,  'tis  better  so  than  if  thou  hadst  wedded  me  here  in 
this  life — if  I  had  sat  in  thy  homestead  weaving  linen  and 
wool  for  thee  and  bearing  thee  children — pah! 

Sigurd. 

Hold,  hold!  Thy  sorceries  have  been  too  strong  for 
thee;  they  have  made  thee  soul-sick,  Hiordis!  [Horror- 
struck.]     Ha,  see — see!     Gunnar's  hall — it  is  burning! 

Hiordis. 

Let  it  burn,  let  it  burn!  The  cloud-hall  up  yonder  is 
loftier  than  Gunnar's  rafter- roof ! 

Sigurd. 
But  Egil,  thy  son — they  are  slaying  him! 

Hiordis. 
Let  him  die — my  shame  dies  with  him. 

Sigurd. 
And  Gunnar — they  are  taking  thy  husband's  life! 


act  iv]     THE   VIKINGS   AT   HELGELAND       133 

HlORDIS. 

What  care  I!  A  better  husband  shall  I  follow  home 
this  night!  Ay,  Sigurd,  so  must  it  be;  here  on  this  earth 
grows  no  happiness  for  me.  The  White  God  is  coming 
northward;  him  will  I  not  meet;  the  old  gods  are  strong 
no  longer;— they  sleep,  they  sit  half  shadow-like  on  high; 
—with  them  will  we  strive!  Out  of  this  life,  Sigurd!  I 
will  enthrone  thee  king  in  heaven,  and  I  myself  will  sit 
by  thy  side.  [The  storms  bursts  wildly]  Hark,  hark, 
here  comes  our  company!  Canst  see  the  black  steeds 
galloping  ?— one  is  for  me  and  one  for  thee.  [Draws  the 
arrow  to  her  ear  and  shoots.]  Away,  then,  on  thy  last 
ride  home! 

Sigurd. 
Well  aimed,  Hiordis!  [He  falls. 

HlORDIS. 

[Jubilant,  rushes  up  to  him.]     Sigurd,  my  brother, 

now  art  thou  mine  at  last! 

Sigurd. 

Now  less  than  ever.     Here  our  ways  part;   for  I  am  a 
Christian  man. 

Hiordis. 
[Appalled.]    Thou !     Ha,  no,  no! 

Sigurd. 

The  White  God  is  mine;    King  vEthelstan  taught  me 
to  know  him;  it  is  to  him  I  go. 


134       THE   VIKINGS   AT   HELGELAND     [act  iv 

HlORDIS. 

[In  despair.]    And  I !    [Drops  her  boiv.]    Woe!  woe! 

Sigurd. 

Heavy  has  my  life  been  from  the  hour  I  tore  thee  out 
of  my  own  heart  and  gave  thee  to  Gunnar.  I  thank  thee, 
Hiordis; — now  am  I  so  light  and  free.  [Dies. 

HlORDIS. 

[Quietly.]  Dead !  Then  truly  have  I  brought  n\v  soul 
to  wreck.  [The  storm  increases;  she  breaks  forth  wildly.] 
They  come!  I  have  bewitched  them  hither!  No,  no! 
I  will  not  go  with  you!  I  will  not  ride  without  Sigurd! 
It  avails  not — they  see  me;  they  laugh  and  beckon  to  me; 
they  spur  their  horses !  [Rushes  out  to  the  edge  of  the 
cliff  at  the  back.]  They  are  upon  me; — and  no  shelter, 
no  hiding-place!     Ay,  mayhap  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea! 

[She  casts  herself  over. 

[Ornulf,  Dagny,  Gunnar,  with  Egil,  gradually  fol- 
lowed by  Sigurd's  and  Ornulf's  men,  enter  from 
the  right. 

Ornulf. 

[Turning  towards  the  grave-mound.]  Now  may  ye 
sleep  in  peace;   for  ye  lie  not  unavenged. 

Dagny. 

[Entering.]  Father,  father — I  die  of  fear — all  that 
blood  and  strife — and  the  storm; — hark,  hark! 

Gunnar. 
[Carrying  Egil.]     Peace,  and  shelter  for  my  child. 


act  iv]     THE   VIKINGS   AT  HELGELAND       135 

Ornulf. 
Gunnar! 

Gunnar. 

Ay,  Ornulf,  my  homestead  is  burnt  and  my  men  are 
slain;   I  am  in  thy  power;  do  with  me  what  thou  wilt! 

Ornulf. 

That  Sigurd  must  look  to.  But  in,  under-roof !  It  is 
not  safe  out  here. 

Dagny. 

Ay,  ay,  in!  [Goes  towards  tlie  boat-house,  catclies  sight 
of  Sigurd's  body,  and  shrieks.]  Sigurd,  my  husband!— 
They  have  slain  him!  [Throwing  herself  upon  him. 

Ornulf. 

[Rustics  up.]     Sigurd! 

Gunnar. 
[Sets  Egil  down.]     Sigurd  dead! 

Dagny. 

[Looks  despairingly  at  t/ie  men,  who  surround  the  body.] 
No,  no,  it  is  not  so;— he  must  be  alive!  [Catches  sight 
of  the  bow.]     Ha,  what  is  that  ?  [Rises. 

Ornulf. 
Daughter,  it  is  as  first  thou  saidst— Sigurd  is  slain. 


136       THE   VIKINGS   AT   HELGELAND     [act  iv 

GUNNAR. 

[As  if  seized  by  a  sudden  thought.]     And  Hiordis! — 
Has  Hiordis  been  here  ? 

Dagny.  , 

[Softly  and  with  self-control.]     I  know  not;    but  this  I 
know,  that  her  bow  has  been  here. 

Gunnar. 
Ay,  I  thought  no  less! 

Dagny. 

Hush,  hush!     [To  herself]     So  bitterly  did  she  hate 
him! 

Gunnar. 

[Aside.]     She  has  slain  him — the  night  before  the  com- 
bat;   then  after  all  she  loved  me. 

[A  thrill  of  dread  runs  through  the  whole  group;  As- 
gardsreien — tlie  ride  of  tJie  fallen  warriors  to 
Valhal — hurtles  through  the  air. 

Egil. 
[In  terror.]     Father!     See,  see! 

Gunnar. 
What  is  it  ? 

Egil. 

Up  there — all  the  black  horses ! 

Gunnar. 
It  is  the  clouds  that 


act  ivj     THE   VIKINGS   AT   HELGELAND       137 
Ornulf. 
Nay,  it  is  the  dead  men's  home-faring. 

Egil. 
[With  a  shriek.]     Mother  is  with  them! 

Dagny. 

All  good  spirits! 

Gunnak. 
Child,  what  say'st  thou  ? 

Egil. 

There— in  front— on  the  black  horse!     Father,  father! 

[Egil  clings  in  terror  to  his  father;  a  short  pause;  the 
storm  passes  over,  the  clouds  part,  the  moon  shines 
peacefully  on  tlie  scene. 

GUNNAR. 

[In  quiet  sorrow.]     Now  is  Hiordis  surely  dead. 

Ornulf. 

So  it  must  be,  Gunnar; — and  my  vengeance  was  rather 
against  her  than.  thee.  Dear  has  this  meeting  been  to 
both  of  us;— there  is  my  hand ;  be  there  peace  between  us ! 

Gunnar. 

Thanks,  Ornulf!  And  now  aboard;  I  sail  with  thee 
to  Iceland. 


138      THE   VIKINGS   AT   HELGELAND     [act  iv 

Ornulp. 

Ay,  to  Iceland!     Long  will  it  be  ere  ouivforth-faring  is 
forgotten. 

Weapon-wielding  warriors'  meeting, 
woful,  by  the  norland  seaboard, 
still  shall  live  in  song  and  saga 
while  our  stem  endures  in  Iceland. 


THE    END 


THE   PRETENDERS 


THE   PRETENDERS 

INTRODUCTION  * 

Six  years  elapsed   between  the  composition  of   The 
Vikings  and  that  of   The  Pretenders.1     In  the  interval 
Ibsen  wrote  Love's  Comedy,  and  brought  all  the  world 
of  Norwegian  philistinism,  and  (as  we  should  now  say) 
suburbanism,    about    his    ears.     Whereas    hitherto    his 
countrymen  had  ignored,  they  now  execrated  him.     In 
his  autobiographic  letter  of  1870,  te  Peter  Hansen,  he 
wrote:  "The  only  person  who  at  that   time  approved 
of  the  book  was  my  wife.  ...  My  countrymen  excom- 
municated me.     All  were  against  me.     The  fact  that  all 
were  against  me— that  there  was  no  longer  any  one  out- 
side my  own  family  circle  of  whom  I  could  say  'He  be- 
lieves in  me'— must,  as  you  can  easily  see,  have  aroused 
a  mood  which  found  its  outlet  in  The  Pretenders."     It  is 
to  be  noted  that  this ^wasa written  during  a  period  of  es- 
trangement from  Biornson.     I  do  not  know  what  was 
Bjornson's  attitude  towards  Love's  Comedy  in  particular; 
but  there  can  be  no  doubt  that,  in  general,  he  believed  in 
and  encouraged  his  brother  poet,  and  employed  his  own 

•  The  original  title  Kongsemnerm  might  be  more  literally  trans- 
ited Ihe  Scions  of  Royalty."  It  is  rendered  by  Brandes  in 
German      Konigsmaterie, "  or   "the  stuff  from  which  kings  are 

*  Copyright,  1906,  by  Charles  Scribner's  Sons. 
141 


142  THE   PRETENDERS 

growing  influence  in  efforts  to  his  advantage.  In  repre- 
senting himself  as  standing  quite  alone,  Ibsen  probably 
forgets,  for  the  moment,  his  relation  to  his  great  con- 
temporary. 

Yet  the  relation  to  Bjornson  lay  at  the  root  of  the 
character-contrast  on  which  The  Pretenders  is  founded. 
Ibsen  always  insisted  that  each  of  his  plays  gave  poetic 
form  to  some  motive  gathered  from  his  own  experience 
or  observation ;  and  this  is  very  clearly  true  of  the  present 
play.  Ever  since  Synriove  Solbakken  had  appeared  in 
1857,  Bjornson,  the  expansive,  eloquent,  lyrical  Bjorn- 
son, had  been  the  darling  child  of  fortune.  He  had  gone 
from  success  to  success  unwearied.  He  was  recognised 
throughout  Scandinavia  (in  Denmark  no  less  than  in 
Norway)  as  the  leader  of  the  rising  generation  in  almost 
every  branch  of  imaginative  literature.  He  was  full,  not 
only  of  inspiration  and  energy,  but  of  serene  self-confi- 
dence. Meanwhile  Ibsen,  nearly  five  years  older  than  he, 
had  been  pursuing  his  slow  and  painful  course  of  develop- 
ment, in  comparative  obscurity,  in  humiliating  poverty, 
and  amid  almost  complete  lack  of  appreciation.  "Mr. 
Ibsen  is  a  great  cipher"  (or  "nullity"),  wrote  a  critic  in 
1858;  another,  in  1863,  laid  it  down  that  "Ibsen  has  a  cer- 
tain technical  and  artistic  talent,  but  nothing  of  what  car 
be  called  'genius.'"  The  scoffs  of  the  critics,  however, 
were  not  the  sorest  trials  that  he  had  to  bear.  What  we 
hardest  to  contend  against  was  the  doubt  as  to  his  owr 
poetic  calling  and  election  that  constantly  beset  him. 
This  doubt  could  not  but  be  generated  by  the  very  tardi- 
ness of  his  mental  growth.  We  see  him  again  and  again 
(in  the  case  of  Olaf  Liliekrans,  of  Tlie  Vikings,  of  Love'a 


INTRODUCTION  143 

Comedy,  and  of  Tfie  Pretenders  itself),  conceiving  a  plan 
and  then  abandoning  it  for  years — no  doubt  because  he 
found  himself,  in  one  respect  or  another,  unripe  for  its 
execution.     Every  such  experience  must  have  involved  for 
him  days  and  weeks  of  fruitless  effort  and  discourage- 
ment.    To  these  moods  of  scepticism  as  to  his  own  powers   ' 
he  gave  expression  in  a  series  of  poems  (for  the  most  part 
sonnets)  published  in  1859  under  the  title  of  In  tlie  Picture 
Gallery.     In  it  he  represents  the  "black  elf"  of  doubt, 
whispering  to  him:  "Your  soul  is  like  the  dry  bed  of  a 
mountain  stream,  in  which  the  singing  waters  of  poetry 
have  ceased   to  flow.     If  a  faint  sound   comes  rustling 
down  the  empty  channel,  do  not  imagine  that  it  portends 
the  return  of  the  waters — it  is  only  the  dry  leaves  eddying 
before  the  autumn  wind,  and  pattering  among  the  barren 
stones."    In  those  years  of  struggle  and  stress,  of  depress- 
ing criticism,  and  enervating  self-criticism,  he  must  often 
have  compared  his  own  lot  and  his  own  character  with 
Bjornson's,  and  perhaps,  too,  wondered  whether  there 
were  no  means  by  which  he  could  appropriate  to  him- 
self some  of  his  younger  and  more  facile  brother-poet's 
kingly   self-confidence.     For  this  relation   between   two 
taliiils  he  partly  found  and  partly  invented  a  historic 
parallel  in  the  relation  between  two  rival  pretenders  to 
the   Norwegian   throne,   Hakon   Hakonsson  and   Skule 
Bardmon. 

Dr.  Brandes,  who  has  admirably  expounded  the  per- 
sonal element  in  the  genesis  of  this  play,  compares  Hakon- 
Bjbrnson  and  Skule-Ibsen  with  the  Aladdin  and  Nureddin 
of  Oehlenschlager*S  beautiful  dramatic  poem.  Aladdin 
is  the  born  genius,  serene,  light-hearted,  a  trifle  shallow, 


144  THE   PRETENDERS 

who  grasps  the  magic  lamp  with  an  unswerving  confi- 
dence in  his  right  to  it.  ("It  is  that  which  the  Romans 
called  ingenium"  says  Bishop  Nicholas,  "truly  I  am  not 
strong  in  Latin;  but  'twas  called  ingenium")  Nureddin, 
on  the  other  hand,  is  the  far  profounder,  more  penetrat- 
ing, but  sceptical  and  self-torturing  spirit.  When  at  last 
he  seizes  Aladdin's  lamp,  as  Skule  annexes  Hakon's  king's 
thought,  his  knees  tremble,  and  it  drops  from  his  grasp, 
just  as  the  Genie  is  ready  to  obey  him. 

It  is  needless  to  cite  the  passages  from  the  scenes  be- 
tween Skule  and  Bishop  Nicholas  in  the  second  act,  Skule 
and  Hakon  in  the  third,  Skule  and  Jatgeir  in  the  fourth, 
in  which  this  element  of  personal  symbolism  is  present. 
The  reader  will  easily  recognise  them,  while  recognising 
at  the  same  time  that  their  dramatic  appropriateness, 
their  relevance  to  the  historic  situation  as  the  poet 
viewed  it,  is  never  for  a  moment  impaired.  The  under- 
lying meaning  is  never  allowed  to  distort  or  denaturalise 
the  surface  aspect  of  the  picture.1  The  play  may  be  read, 
understood,  and  fully  appreciated,  by  a  person  for  whom 
this  underlying  meaning  has  no  existence.  One  does  not 
point  it  out  as  an  essential  element  in  the  work  of  art,  or 
even  as  adding  to  its  merit,  but  simply  as  affording  a 
particularly  clear  instance  of  Ibsen's  method  of  inter- 
weaving "Wahrheit"  with  "Dichtung." 

So  early  as  1858,  soon  after  the  completion  of  The  Vi- 
kings, Ibsen  had  been  struck  by  the  dramatic  material  in 
Hakon  Hakonsson's  Saga,  as  related  by  Snorri  Sturlas- 

1  This  remark  does  not  apply,  of  course,  to  the  satiric  "  parabasis" 
uttered  by  the  Bishop's  ghost  in  the  fifth  act.  That  is  a  totally 
different  matter. 


INTRODUCTION  145 

son's  nephew,  Sturla  Thordsson,  and  had  sketched  a  play 
on  the  subject.  At  that  time,  however,  he  put  the  draft 
aside.  It  was  only  as  the  years  went  on,  as  he  found  him- 
self "excommunicated"  after  Love's  Comedy,  and  as  the 
contrast  between  Bjornson's  fortune  and  his  own  became 
ever  more  marked,  that  the  figures  of  Skule  and  Hakon 
took  more  and  more  hold  upon  his  imagination.  In 
June,  1863,  he  attended  a  "Festival  of  Song"  at  Bergen, 
and  there  met  Bjornson,  who  had  been  living  abroad 
since  1860.  Probably  under  the  stimulus  of  this  meeting, 
he  set  to  work  upon  The  Pretenders  immediately  on  his 
return  to  Christiania,  and  wrote  it  with  almost  incredible 
rapidity.  The  manuscript  went  to  the  printers  in  Sep- 
tember; the  book  was  published  in  October,  1863  (though 
dated  1864),  and  the  play  was  produced  at  the  Christiania 
Theatre,  under  the  author's  own  supervision,  on  January 
17,  1864.  The  production  was  notabjy  successful;  yet 
no  one  seems  fully  to  have  realised  what  it  meant  for 
Norwegian  literature.  Outside  of  Norway,  at  any  rate,  it 
awoke  no  echo.  George  Brandes  declares  that  scarcely 
a  score  of  copies  of  the  play  found  their  way  to  Denmark. 
Not  until  Ibsen  had  left  Norway  (April,  1864)  and  had 
taken  the  Danish  reading  public  by  storm  with  Brand 
and  Peer  Gynt,  did  people  turn  back  to  The  Pretenders 
and  discover  what  an  extraordinary  achievement  it  was. 
In  January,  1871,  it  was  produced  at  the  Royal  Theatre, 
Copenhagen,  where  Emil  Poulsen  found  in  Bishop  Nich- 
olas one  of  the- great  triumphs  of  his  career.  It  was 
produced  by  the  Meiningen  Company  and  at  the  Mu- 
nich Hoftheater  in  1875,  in  Stockholm  in  1879,  at  the 
Konigliches  Schauspielhaus,  Berlin,  and  at  the  Vienna 


146  THE   PRETENDERS 

Burgtheater  in  1891;  and  it  has  from  time  to  time  been 
acted  at  many  other  Scandinavian  and  German  theatres.1 
The  character  of  Nicholas  has  fascinated  many  great 
actors:  what  a  pity  that  it  did  not  come  in  the  way  of 
Sir  Henry  Irving  when  he  was  at  the  height  of  his  power! 
But  of  course  no  English  actor-manager  would  dream  of 
undertaking  a  character  which  dies  in  the  middle  of  the 
third  act. 

Ibsen's  treatment  of  history  in  this  play  may  be  pro- 
posed as  a  model  to  other  historic  dramatists.  Although 
he  has  invented  a  great  deal,  his  inventions  supplement 
rather  than  contradict  the  records.  Chronology,  indeed, 
he  treats  with  considerable  freedom,  and  at  the  same  time 
with  ingenious  vagueness.  The  general  impression  one 
receives  in  reading  the  play  is  that  the  action  covers  a 
space  of  four  or  five  years;  as  a  matter  of  fact  it  covers 
Uy^nJt^lffio^ieaj^hetween  the  folkmote  in  Bergen,  1218, 
and  Skule's  de^H1240.  All  the  leading  characters  art- 
historical;  and  although  much  is  read  into  them  which 
history  does  not  warrant,  there  is  little  that  history  ab- 
solutely forbids  us  to  conceive.  The  general  features  of 
the  struggle  between  the  two  factions — Hakon's  Birke- 
beiner,  or  Birchlegs,  and  Skule's  Vargbaelgs — are  cor- 
rectly enough  reproduced.  In  his  treatment  of  this 
period,  the  Norwegian  historian,  J.  E.  Sars,  writing  thir- 
teen years  after  the  appearance  of  Tlie  Pretenders,  uses 
terms  which  might  almost  have  been  suggested  by  Ibsen's 
play.     "On  the  one  side,"  he  says,  "we  find  strength  and 

1  In  America  it  was  acted  in  April,  1907,  by  the  Yale  University 
Dramatic  Association,  but  has  not  as  yet  (1911)  found  its  way  to 
the  professional  stage. 


INTRODUCTION  1  if 

certainty,  on  the  other  lameness  and  laek  of  confidence. 
The  old  Birehlegs1  go  to  work  openly  and  straightfor- 
wardly, like  men  who  are  immovably  convinced  of  the 
justice  of  their  cause,  and  unwaveringly  assured  of  its 
ultimate  victory.     Skule's  adherents,  on  the  other  hand, 
are  ever  seeking  by  intrigues  and   chicanery  to  place 
stumbling-blocks  in  the  way  of  their  opponents'  enthusi- 
asm."    Hakon  represented  Sverre's  ideal  of  a  democratic 
kingship,  independent  of  the  oligarchy  of  bishops  and 
barons.     "He  was,"  says  Sars,  "reared  in  the  firm  con- 
vi( -tion  of  his  right  to  the  Throne;  he  grew  up  among 
the  veterans  of  his  grandfather's  time,  men  imbued  with 
Sverre's  principles,  from  whom  he  accepted  them  as  a 
ready-made  system,  the  realisation  of  which  could  only  be 
a  question  of  time.     He  stood  from  the  first  in  a  clear  and 
straightforward  position  to  which  his  whole  personality 
corresponded.  ...  He  owed  his  chief  strength  to  the  re- 
pose and  equilibrium  of  mind  which  distinguished  him, 
and  had  its  root  in  his  unwavering  sense  of  having  right 
and  the  people's  will  upon  his  side."     His  great  "king's- 
thought,"  however,  seems  to  be  an  invention  of  the  poet's. 
Skule,  on  the  other  hand,  represented  the  old  nobility  in 
its  struggle  against  the  new  monarchy.     "He  was  the 
centre  of  a  hierarchic  aristocratic  party;  but  after  its 
repeated  defeats  this  party  must  have  been  lacking  alike 
in  number  and  in  confidence.  ...  It  was  clear  from  the 
first  that  his  attempt  to  reawaken  the  old  wars  of  the 
succession  in  Norway  was  undertaken  in  the  spirit  of  the 
desperate  gambler,  who  does  not  count  the  chances,  but 

1  The    followers    of    Hakon 's    grandfather,    King    Sverre.     See 
Note,  p.  161. 


148  THE   PRETENDERS 

throws  at  random,  in  the  blind  hope  that  luck  may  be- 
friend him.  .  .  .  Skule's  enterprise  had  thus  no  support 
in  opinion  or  in  any  prevailing  interest,  and  one  defeat 
was  sufficient  to  crush  him." 

In  the  character  of  Bishop  Nicholas,  too,  Ibsen  has 
widened  and  deepened  his  historical  material,  rather  than 
poetised  with  a  free  hand.  "  Bishop  Nicholas,"  says  Sars, 
"represented  rather  the  aristocracy  .  .  .  than  the  cloth 
to  which  he  belonged.  He  had  begun  his  career  as  a 
worldly  chieftain,  and,  as  such,  taken  part  in  Magnus 
Erlingsson's  struggles  with  Sverre;  and  although  he  must 
have  had  some  tincture  of  letters,  since  he  could  contrive 
to  be  elected  a  bishop  .  .  .  there  is  no  lack  of  indications 
that  his  spiritual  lore  was  not  of  the  deepest.  During  his 
long  participation  in  the  civil  broils,  both  under  Sverre 
and  later,  we  see  in  him  a  man  to  whose  character  any  sort 
of  religious  or  ecclesiastical  enthusiasm  must  have  been 
foreign,  his  leading  motives  being  personal  ambition  and 
vengefulness  rather  than  any  care  for  general  interests — 
a  cold  and  calculating  nature,  shrewd  but  petty  and  with- 
out any  impetus,  of  whom  Hakon  Hakonsson,  in  deliver- 
ing his  funeral  speech  .  .  .  could  find  nothing  better  to 
say  than  that  he  had  not  his  equal  in  worldly  wisdom 
(veraldar  vit) ."  I  cannot  find  that  the  Bishop  played  any 
such  prominent  part  in  the  struggle  between  the  King  and 
the  Earl  as  Ibsen  assigns  to  him;  and  the  only  foundation 
for  the  great  death-bed  scene  seems  to  be  the  following 
passage  from  Hakon  Hakonsson 's  Saga,  Cap.  138:  "As 
Bishop  Nicholas  at  that  time  lay  very  sick,  he  sent  a  mes- 
senger to  the  King  praying  him  to  come  to  him.  The 
King  had  on  this  expedition  seized  certain  letters,  from 


INTRODUCTION  149 

which  he  gathered  that  the  Bishop  had  not  been  true 
to  him.  With  this  he  upbraided  him,  and  the  Bishop, 
confessing  it,  prayed  the  King  to  forgive  him.  The 
King  replied  that  he  did  so  willingly,  for  God's  sake; 
and  as  he  could  discern  that  the  Bishop  lay  near  to 
death,  he  abode  with  him  until  God  called  him  from  the 
world." 

In  the  introduction  to  Tlie  Vikings  at  Helgeland,  I  have 
suggested  that  in  that  play  Ibsen  had  reached  imaginative 
and  technical  maturity,  but  was  as  yet  intellectually  im- 
mature. The  six  years  that  elapsed  between  The  Vikings 
and  TJie  Pretenders  placed  him  at  the  height  of  his  intellec- 
tual power.  We  have  only  to  compare  Skule,  Hakon,  and 
Bishop  Nicholas  with  Gunnar,  Sigurd,  and  Ornulf  to  feel 
that  we  have  passed  from  nobly-designed  and  more  or 
less  animated  waxworks  to  complex  and  profoundly- 
studied  human  beings.  There  is  no  Hiordis  in  The  Pre- 
tenders, and  the  female  character-drawing  is  still  con- 
trolled by  purely  romantic  ideals;1  but  how  exquisitely 
human  is  Margrete  in  comparison  with  the  almost  entirely 
conventional  Dagny!  The  criticism  of  life,  too,  which  in 
Tfie  Vikings  is  purely  sentimental,  here  becomes  intense 
and  searching.  The  only  point  of  superiority  in  The 
Vikings — if  it  be  a  point  of  superiority — is  purely  techni- 

1  On  page  323  will  be  found  a  reference  to  Brandes's  Ibsen  and 
BjGrnson;  but  I  may  as  well  give  here  the  substance  of  the  passage. 
In  the  original  form  of  the  play,  three  speeches  of  Ingeborg's,  in  her 
scene  with  Skule,  ran  as  follows:  "It  is  man's  right  to  forget,"  "It 
is  woman's  happiness  to  remember,"  and  "To  have  to  sacrifice  all 
and  be  forgotten,  that  is  woman's  saga."  It  was  only  on  Brandes's 
remonstrance  that  Ibsen  substituted  the  present  form  of  these 
speeches,  in  which  they  became,  not  the  generalised  expression  of  an 
ideal,  but  merely  utterances  of  Ingeborg's  individual  character. 


150  THE   PRETENDERS 

cal.  The  action  of  the  earlier  play  is  concentrated  and 
rounded.  It  has  all  the  "unity,"  or  "unities,"  that  a 
rational  criticism  can  possibly  demand.  In  a  word,  it  is, 
in  form  as  well  as  essence,  an  ideal  tragedy.  The  Pre- 
tenders, on  the  other  hand,  is  a  chronicle-play,  far  more 
close-knit  than  Shakespeare's  or  Schiller's  works  in  that 
kind,  but,  nevertheless,  what  Aristotle  would  call  "epi- 
sodic" in  its  construction.  The  weaving  of  the  plot,  how- 
ever, is  quite  masterly,  betokening  an  effort  of  invention 
and  adjustment  incomparably  greater  than  that  which 
went  to  the  making  of  Tfie  Vikings.  It  was  doubtless 
his  training  in  the  school  of  French  intrigue  that  enabled 
Ibsen  to  depict  with  such  astonishing  vigour  that  master 
wire-puller,  Bishop  Nicholas.  This  form  of  technical 
dexterity  he  was  afterwards  to  outgrow  and  bring  into 
disrepute.  But  from  Tiie  Vikings  to  Pillars  of  Society 
he  practised,  whenever  he  was  writing  primarily  for  the 
stage,  the  methods  of  the  "well-made  play";  and  in" 
everything  but  concentration,  which  the  very  nature  of 
the  subject  excluded,  The  Pretenders  is  thoroughly  "well- 
made." 

With  this  play,  though  the  Scandinavian  criticism  of 
1864  seems  to  have  been  far  from  suspecting  the  fact, 
Ibsen  took  his  place  among  the  great  dramatists  of  the 
world.  In  wealth  of  characterisation,  complexity  and 
nobility  of  emotion,  and  depth  of  spiritual  insight,  it 
stands  high  among  the  masterpieces  of  romantic  drama. 
It  would  be  hard  to  name  a  more  vigorous  character- 
projection  than  that  of  Bishop  Nicholas,  or  any  one 
dramatic  invention  more  superbly  inspired  than  the  old 
man's  death  scene,  with  the  triumphant  completion  of  his 


INTRODUCTION  151 

perpetuum  mobile.  But  even  if  the  Bishop  were  entirely 
omitted,  the  play  would  not  be  Hamlet  without  the 
Prince  of  Denmark.  The  characters  of  Hakon  and  Skule, 
and  the  struggle  between  them,  would  still  make  one  of 
the  greatest  historic  dramas  in  literature. 

It  has  not  been  generally  noticed,  I  think,  that  Ibsen 
found  in  Bjornson's  King  Sverre,  published  in  1861,  a 
study  of  Bishop  Nicholas  in  his  younger  days.  The  play, 
as  a  whole,  is  a  poor  one,  and  does  not  appear  in  the  col- 
lected edition  of  Bjornson's  works;  but  there  is  distinct 
merit  in  the  drawing  of  the  Bishop's  character.  Further- 
more, it  ought  to  be  remembered  that  TJie  Pretenders  was 
not  the  first  work,  or  even  the  first  great  work,  of  its  class 
in  Norwegian  literature.  In  1862,  Bjornson  had  pub- 
lished his  splendid  trilogy  of  Sigurd  Slembe,  which,  though 
more  fluid  and  uneven  than  Tlie  Pretenders,  contains 
several  passages  of  almost  Shakespearean  power.  It  was 
certainly  greater  than  anything  Ibsen  had  done  up  to  that 
date.  Ibsen  reviewed  it  on  its  appearance,  in  terms  of 
unmixed  praise,  yet,  as  one  cannot  but  feel,  rather  over- 
cauticfiisly. 

If  anything  could  excuse  the  coolness  of  Norwegian 
criticism  towards  The  Pretenders,  it  was  the  great  and 
flagrant  artistic  blemish  of  the  Ghost  Scene  in  the  last  act.  ' 
This  outburst  of  prophetico-topical  satire  is  a  sheer  ex- 
crescence on  the  play,  indefensible,  but,  at  the  same  time, 
fortunately  negligible.  It  is,  however,  of  interest  as  a 
symptom  of  Ibsen's  mood  in  the  last  months  before  he 
left  Norway,  and  also  as  one  of  the  links  in  that  chain 
which  binds  all  his  works  together.  Just  as  Skule's 
attempt  to  plagiarise  Hakon's  king's-thought  points  back- 


152 


THE   PRETENDERS 


wards  to  Gunnar's  moral  lapse  in  taking  advantage  of  the 
fraud  on  Hiordis,  so  the  ironic  rhymes  of  the  Bagler- 
Bishop's  ghost  point  forward  to  the  lyric  indignation 
and  irony  of  Brand  and  Peer  Gynt. 


THE  PRETENDERS 

(1863)  ^ 


CHARACTERS 

Hakon  Hakonsson,  the  King  elected  by  the  Birchlegs. 
Inga  of  Varteig,  his  mother. 
Earl  Skule. 
Lady  Ragnhild,  his  wife. 
^igrid,  his  sister. 
Iargrete,  his  daughter. 

JTHORM  INGESSON. 
SlGIURD  RlBBUNG.V. 

Nicholas  Arnesson,  Bishop  of  Oslo. 

Dagfinn  the  Peasant,  Hakon  s  marshal. 

Ivar  Bodde,  his  chaplain. 
v    Vegard  Vaeradal,  one  of  his  guard. 
«•  Gregorius  Jonsson, .a-nohleman. 
HPaul  Flida,  a  nobleman. 
-Tngeborg,  Andres  Skialdarband's  wife. 

PetEr,  her  son,  a  young  priest. 

Sira  Viliam,  Bishop  Nicholas* a  chaplain. 

Master  Sigard  of  Brabant,  a  physician. 

Jatgeir  Skald,  an  Icelander. 

Bard  Bratte,  a  chieftain  from  the  Trondhiem  district. 

Populace  and  Citizens  of  Bergen,  Oslo,  and  Nidaros. 

Priests,  Monks,  and  Nuns. 

Guests,  Guards,  and  Ladies. 

Men-at-arms,  etc.  etc. 


The  action  passes  in  the  first  half  of  the  Thirteenth  Century. 

Pronunciation  of  Names:  Hakon  =Hoakoon  ("oa"  as  in 
"board");  Skule  =  Skoole;  Margrete  =  Margrayte;  Guthorm== 
Gootorm;  Sigurd  Ribbung=Sigoord  Ribboong;  Dagfinn  ("a" 
as  in  "hard");  Ivar  Bodde =Eevar  Bodde;  Vegard  =Vaygard; 
Jonsson  =  Yoonson;  Flida  =  Fleeda;  Ingeborg  =  Ingheborg; 
Jatgeir =Yatgheir;  Bard  Bratte=Board  Bratte.  The  name 
"Ingeborg"  appears  as  "Ingebjorg"  in  Ibsen's  text.  The  form 
I  have  substituted  is  equally  current  in  Norway,  and  less  trouble- 
some to  pronounce. 

154 


ttv 


OA^ 


THE  PRETENDERS 

HISTORIC  PLAY  IN  FIVE  ACTS 


ACT   FIRST 


The  churchyard  of  Christ  Church,  Bergen.  At  the  back 
rises  the  church,  the  main  portal  of  which  faces 
tlie  spectators.  In  front,  on  the  left,  stands  Hakon 
HAkonsson,  with  Dagfinn  tup:  Peasant,  Vegard 
of  Vjeradal,  Ivar  Bodde,  and  several  other  nobles 
and  chieftains.  Opposite  to  him  stand  Earl  Skule, 
Gregorius  Jonsson,  Paul  Flida,  a?ul  others  of  the 
EarVs  men.  Further  back  on  the  same  side  are  seen 
Sigurd  Riubung  and  h  is  followers,  and  a  little  way 
from  him  GuTflOEM  [ngbssON,  with  several  chiefs. 
Men-at-arms  line  the  approaches  to  the  church;  the 
common  people  fill  the  eliun-liyard;  many  are  perched 
in  the  trees  and  seated  on  the  icalls;  all  seem  to  await, 
in  suspense,  lite  occurrence  of  some  event.  All  the 
church  hells  of  tlie  town  are  ringing  far  and  near. 

Earl  Skule. 

[Softly  and  impatiently,  to  ( I  uegorius  Jonsson.]     Why 
tarry  they  so  long  in  there? 

155 


156  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  i 

Gregorius  Jonsson. 

Hush!     The  psalm  is  beginning. 

[From  inside  the  closed  church  doors,  to  the  accompani- 
ment of  trumpets,  is  heard  a  Choir  of  Monks 
and  Nuns  singing  Domine  cceli,  etc.  etc.  While 
the  singing  is  going  on,  tJie  church  door  is  opened 
from  inside;  in  the  porch  Bishop  Nicholas  is 
seen,  surrounded  by  Priests  and  Monks. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

[Steps  forward  to  the  doorway  and  proclaims  with  up- 
lifted crazier.]  Inga  of  Varteig  is  even  now  bearing  the 
iron  on  behalf  of  Hakon  the  Pretender. 

[The  church  door  is  closed  again;  the  singing  inside 
continues. 

Gregorius  Jonsson. 

[In  a  low  voice  to  the  Earl.]  Call  upon  Holy  King 
Olaf  to  protect  the  right. 

Earl  Skule. 

[Hurriedly,  with  a  deprecating  gesture.]  Not  now. 
Best  not  remind  him  of  me.      / 

Ivar  Bodde. 
i 

[Seizing  HAkon  by  the  arm.]  Pray  to  the  Lord  thy 
God,  Hakon  Hakonsson. 

HAkon. 

No  need;    I  am  sure  of  him. 

[The  singing  in  the  church  grotvs  louder;  all  uncover; 
many  fall  upon  their  knees  and  pray. 


act  i]  THE   PRETENDERS  157 

Gregorius  Jonsson. 
[To  the  Earl.]     A  solemn  hour  for  you  and  for  many! 

Earl  Skule. 

[  Looking  anxiously  to  wards  the  church.]     A  solemn  hour 
for  Norway. 

Paul  Flida. 

[Near  the  Earl.]     Now  is    the  glowing  iron  in  her 
hands. 

Dagfinn. 

[Beside  Hakon.]     They  are  coming  down  the  nave. 

i 

IVAR   BODDE. 

Christ  protect  thy  tender  hands,  Inga,  mother  of  the 
King! 

Hakon. 

Surely  all  my  life  shall  reward  her  for  this  hour. 

Earl  Skule. 

[Who  has  been  listening  intently,  breaks  out  suddenly.] 
Did  she  cry  out  ?     Has  she  let  the  iron  fall  ? 

Paul  Flida. 
[Goes  up.]     I  know  not  what  it  was. 

Gregorius  Jonsson. 
Hark  to  the  women  weeping  in  the  outer  hall! 


158  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  i 

The  Choir  in  the  Church. 

[Breaks  forth  in  jubilation.]     Gloria  in  excelsis  Deo! 
[The  doors  are  thrown  open.     Inga  comes  forth ,  fol- 
lowed by  Nuns,  Priests,  and  Monks. 

Inga. 

[On  the  church  steps.]     God  has  given  judgment!     Be- 
hold these  hands;    with  them  I  bore  the  iron! 

Voices  amongst  the  Multitude. 
They  are  tender  and  white  as  before! 

Oth*-        oices. 
Fairer  still! 

The  whole  Multitude. 
He  is  Hakon's  son!     He  is  Sverre's1  grandson: 

HAkon. 

[Eiribraces    her.]     Thanks    to    thee,    thanks    to    thee, 
blessed  among  women! 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

[/;?  passing,  to  the  Earl.]     'Twas  ill  done  to  press  for 
the  ordeal. 

Earl  Skule. 

Nay,  my  lord  Bishop,  needs  must  we  pray  for  God's 
voice  in  this  matter 

HAkon. 

[Deeply  moved,  holding  Inga  by  the  hand.]     It  is  done, 
then,  that  which  my  every  fibre  cried  out  against — that 

1  Pronounce  Sverre. 


act  i]  THE   PRETENDERS  159 

which  has  made  my  heart  shrivel  and   writhe  within 
me 

Dagfinn. 

[Turning  towards  tlie  multitude.]  Ay,  look  upon  this 
woman  and  bethink  you,  all  that  are  gathered  here!  Who 
ever  doubted  her  word,  until  certain  folk  required  that 
it  should  be  doubted. 

Paul  Flida. 

Doubt  has  whispered  in  every  corner  from  the  hour 
when  Hakon  the  Pretender  was  borne,  a  little  child,  into 
King  Inge's1  hall. 

Gregorius  Jonsson. 

And  last  winter  it  swelled  to  a  roar,  and  sounded  forth 
over  the  land,  both  north  and  south;  I  trow  every  man  can 
bear  witness  to  that. 

Hakon. 

I  myself  can  best  bear  witness  to  it.  Therefore  have 
I  yielded  to  the  counsel  of  many  faithful  friends,  and 
humbled  myself  as  no  other  chosen  king  has  done  for 
many  a  day.  I  have  proved  my  birth  by  the  ordeal, 
proved  my  right,  as  the  son  of  Hakon  Sverresson,  to  suc- 
ceed to  the  throne  of  Norway.  I  will  not  now  question 
who  fostered  the  doubt,  and  made  it,  as  the  Earl's  kins- 
man says,  swell  into  a  roar;  but  this  I  know,  that  I  have 
suffered  bitterly  under  it.  I  have  been  chosen  king  from 
boyhood,  but  little  kingly  honour  has  been  shown  me, 
even  where  it  seemed  I  might  look  for  it  most  securely. 
I  will  but  remind  you  of  last  Palm  Sunday  in  Nidaros,2 
when  I  went  up  to  the  altar  to  make  my  offering,  and  the 

1  Pronounce  Inghe.  *  The  old  name  for  Trondhiem. 


160  THE   PRETENDERS  Cacti 

Archbishop  turned  away  and  made  as  though  he  saw 
me  not,  to  escape  greeting  me  as  kings  are  wont  to  be 
greeted.  Yet  such  slights  I  could  easily  have  borne,  had 
not  open  war  been  like  to  break  loose  in  the  land;  that 
I  must  needs  hinder. 

Dagfinn. 

It  may  be  well  for  kings  to  hearken  to  counsels  of 
prudence:  but  had  m  y  counsel  been  heard  in  this  mat- 
ter, it  had  not  been  with  hot  iron,  but  with  cold  steel  that 
Hakon  Hakonsson  had  called  for  judgment  between  him- 
self and  his  foes. 

Hakon. 

Curb  yourself,  Dagfinn;  think  what  beseems  the  man 
who  is  to  be  foremost  in  the  State. 

Earl  Skule. 

[With  a  slight  smile.]  'Tis  easy  to  call  every  one  the 
King's  foe  who  chimes  not  with  the  King's  will.  Me- 
thinks  he  is  the  King's  worst  foe  who  would  counsel 
him  against  making  good  his  right  to  the  kingship. 

HAkon. 

Who  knows  ?  Were  my  right  alone  in  question,  may- 
hap I  had  not  paid  so  dear  to  prove  it;  but  higher  things 
are  here  at  stake:  my  calling  and  my  duty.  Deep  and 
warm  is  the  faith  within  me — and  I  blush  not  to  own  it — 
that  I  alone  am  he  who  in  these  times  can  sway  the  land 
to  its  weal.     Kingly  birth  begets  kingly  duty 

Earl  Skule. 

There  are  others  here  who  bear  themselves  the  like 
fair  witness. 


act  i]  THE   PRETENDERS  161 

Sigurd  Ribbung. 

That  do  I,  and  with  full  as  good  ground.     My  grand- 
father was  King  Magnus  Erlingsson 

Hakon. 

Ay,  if  your  father,  Erling  Stcinvaeg,  was  indeed  King 
tagnus's  son;  but  most  folks  < 
none  has  yet  faced  the  ordeal. 


Magnus's  son;  but  most  folks  deny  it,  and  in  that  matter 


Sigurd  Ribbung. 

The  Ribbungs  chose  me  as  king  of  their  own  free  will, 
whereas  'twas  by  threats  that  Dagfinn  the  Peasant  and 
other  Birchlegs1  gained  for  you  the  name  of  King. 

Hakon. 

Ay,  so  ill  had  you  dealt  with  Norway  that  the  stock 
of  Sverre  had  to  claim  its  right  with  threats. 

GUTHORM    INGESSON. 

I  am  of  the  stock  of  Sverre  as  much  as  you 


Dagfinn. 

But  not  in  the  true  male  line. 

•The  "Birkebeiner"  or  Birchlegs  were  at  this  period  a  political 
faction.  They  were  so  called  because,  at  the  time  of  their  first  ap- 
pearance, when  they  seem  to  have  been  little  more  than  bandits, 
they  eked  out  their  scanty  attire  by  making  themselves  leggings  of 
birch-bark.  Norway  at  this  time  swarmed  with  factions,  such  as 
the  "Bagler"  or  Croziers  (Latin,  barulus),  so  called  because  Bishop 
Nicholas  was  their  chief,  the  Ribbungs,  the  Slittungs,  etc.,  devoted, 
for  the  most  part,  to  one  or  other  of  the  many  Pretenders  to  the 
crown. 


162  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  i 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
You  come  on  the  spindle  side,  Guthorm. 

GlJTHORM    INGESSON. 

Yet  this  I  know,  that  my  father,  Inge  Bardsson,  was 
lawfully  chosen  king  of  Norway. 

HAkon. 

Because  none  knew  that  Sverre's  grandson  was  alive. 
From  the  day  that  became  known,  he  held  the  kingdom 
in  trust  for  me — not  otherwise. 

Earl  Skule. 

That  cannot  truly  be  said;  Inge  was  king  all  his  days, 
with  all  lawful  power  and  without  reserve.  'Tis  true 
enough  that  Guthorm  has  but  little  claim,  for  he  was  born 
out  of  wedlock;  but  I  am  King  Inge's  lawfully  begotten 
brother,  and  the  law  is  with  me  if  I  claim,  and  take,  his 
full  inheritance. 

Dagfinn. 

Ah,  Sir  Earl,  of  a  truth  you  have  taken  full  inheri- 
tance, not  of  your  father's  wealth  alone,  but  of  all  the 
goods  Hakon  Sverresson  left  behind  him. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

Not  all,  good  Dagfinn.  Respect  the  truih; — King 
Hakon  has  kept  a  brooch  and  the  golden  ring  he  wears 
on  his  arm. 

Hakon. 

Be  that  as  it  will;  with  God's  help  I  shall  win  myself 
wealth    again.     And    now,    ye    barons    and    thanes,    ye 


act  i]  THE   PRETENDERS  163 

churchmen  and  chieftains  and  men-at-arms,  now  it  is 
time  we  held  the  folkmote,  as  has  been  agreed.  I  have 
sat  with  bound  hands  until  this  day;  methinks  no  man 
will  blame  me  for  longing  to  have  them  loosed. 

Earl  Skule. 
There  are  others  in  like  case,  Hakon  Hakonsson. 

HAkon. 

[His  attention  arrested.]     What  mean  you,  Sir  Earl  ? 

Earl  Skule. 

I  mean  that  all  we  Pretenders  have  the  same  cause  for 
longing.  We  have  all  alike  been  straitly  bound,  for  none 
of  us  has  known  how  far  his  right  might  reach. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

The  Church  has  been  even  as  unstable  as  the  king- 
dom; but  now  must  we  abide  by  the  sainted  King  Olaf's 
law. 

Dagfinn. 
[Half  aloud.]     Fresh  subtleties! 

[HAkon 's  men  gatJier  more  closely  together. 

HAkon. 

[With  forced  calmness,  advances  a  couple  of  paces 
toaards  tlie  Earl.]  I  would  fain  think  I  have  not  rightly 
taken  your  meaning.  The  ordeal  has  made  good  my 
birthright  to  the  kingdom,  and  therefore,  as  I  deem,  the 
folkmote  has  nought  to  do  but  to  confirm  my  election, 
made  at  the  Orething1  six  years  ago. 

1  A  "thing,"  or  assembly,  held  from  time  to  time  on  the  "ore" 
or  foreshore  at  the  mouth  of  the  river  Nid,  at  Trondhiem. 


1G4  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  i 

Several  of  the  Earl's  and  Sigurd's  Men. 
No,  no!     That  we  deny! 

Earl  Skule. 

'Twas  with  no  such  thought  that  we  agreed  to  hold 
the  folkmote  here.  The  ordeal  has  not.  given  you  the 
kingdom;  it  has  but  proved  your  title  to  come  forward 
to-day,  along  with  the  other  Pretenders  here  present,  and 
contend  for  the  right  you  hold  to  be  yours 

Hakon. 

[Constraining  himself  to  be  calm.]  That  means,  in 
brief,  that  for  six  years  I  have  unlawfully  borne  the  name 
of  King,  and  you,  Sir  Earl,  have  for  six  years  unlawfully 
ruled  the  land  as  regent  for  me. 

Earl  Skule. 

In  no  wise.  When  my  brother  died,  'twas  needful  that 
some  one  should  bear  the  kingly  title.  The  Birchlegs, 
and  most  of  all  Dagfinn  the  Peasant,  were  active  in  your 
cause,  and  hastened  your  election  through  before  we 
others  could  set  forth  our  claims. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

[To  Hakon.]  The  Earl  would  say  that  that  election 
gave  you  but  the  use  of  the  kingly  power,  not  the  right 
to  it. 

Earl  Skule. 

You  have  held  all  the  marks  of  kingship;  but  Sigurd 
Ribbung  and  Guthorm  Ingesson  and  I  hold  ourselves  to 


act  i]  THE  PRETENDERS  1(25 

the  full  as  near  inheritors  as  you;  and  now  shall  the  law 
judge  between  us,  and  say  whose  shall  be  the  inheritance 
for  all  time. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
In  truth,  Earl  Skule  reads  the  case  aright. 

Earl  Skule. 

There  has  been  talk  more  than  once  in  these  years  of 
both  ordeal  and  folkmote;  but  something  has  ever  come 
between.  And,  Sir  Hakon,  if  you  deemed  your  right  for 
ever  fixed  by  the  first  election,  how  came  you  to  accept 
the  ordeal  ? 

Dag  finn. 

[Exasperated.]  To  your  swords,  King's  men,  let 
them    decide ! 

Many  of  the  King's  Men. 
[Rushing  forward.]     Down  with  the  King's  enemies! 

Earl  Skule. 

[Calls  to  his  men.]  Slay  none!  Wound  none!  Only 
keep  them  off. 

HAkon. 

[Restraining  his  men.]  Up  with  your  blades,  all  who 
have  drawn  them!— Up  with  your  blades,  I  say!  [Calm- 
ly.] You  make  things  tenfold  worse  for  me  by  such  do- 
ings. 

Earl  Skule. 

Even  so  are  men  flying  at  each  other's  throats  all  the 
country  over.     You  see  now,  Hakon  Hakonsson;    does 


16ii  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  i 

not  this  show  clearly  what  you  have  to  do,  if  you  care 
aught  for  the  country's  peace  and  the  lives  of  men  ? 

Hakon. 

[After  some  reflection.]  Yes — I  see  it.  [Takes  Inga 
by  the  hand  and  turns  to  one  of  those  standing  by  him.] 
Torkell,  you  were  a  trusty  man  in  my  father's  guard ;  take 
this  woman  to  your  own  abode  and  see  you  tend  her  well; 
she  was  very  dear  to  Hakon  Sverresson. — God  bless  you, 
my  mother, — now  I  must  gird  me  for  the  folkmote.  [Inga 
presses  his  hand,  and  goes  with  Torkell.  Hakon  is 
silent  awhile,  then  steps  forward  and  says  with  emphasis:] 
The  law  shall  decide,  and  it  alone.  Ye  Birchlegs  who, 
at  the  Orething,  took  me  for  your  King,  I  free  you  from 
the  oath  ye  sware  to  me.  You,  Dagfinn,  are  no  longer 
my  marshal;  I  will  not  appear  with  marshal  or  with 
guard,1  with  vassals  or  with  henchmen.  I  am  a  poor 
man;  all  my  inheritance  is  a  brooch  and  this  gold  ring; 
— these  are  scant  goods  wherewith  to  reward  so  many 
good  men's  service.  Now,  ye  other  Pretenders,  now  we 
stand  equal;  I  will  have  no  advantage  of  you,  save  the 
right  which  I  have  from  above — t  h  a  t  I  neither  can  nor 
will  share  with  any  one. — Let  the  assembly-call  be 
sounded,  and  then  let  God  and  the  Holy  King  Olaf's 
law  decide. 

[Goes  out  with  his  men  to  tlie  left;   blasts  of  trumpets 
and  horns  are  heard  in  the  distance. 

1  The  word  hird  is  very  difficult  to  render.  It  meant  something 
between  "court,"  "household,"  and  "guard."  I  have  never  trans- 
lated it  "court,"  as  that  word  seemed  to  convey  an  idea  of  peaceful 
civilisation  foreign  to  the  country  and  period;  but  I  have  used  either 
"guard"  or  "household"  as  the  context  seemed  to  demand.  Hird- 
mand  I  have  generally  rendered  "man-at-arms."  Lendermand  I 
have  represented  by  "  baron  ";  lagmand  and  sysselmand  by  "  thane  "; 
and  stallare  by  "marshal" — all  mere  rough  approximations. 


act  i]  THE  PRETENDERS  167 

Gregorius  Jonsson. 

[  To  tlie  Earl,  as  the  crowd  is  departing.]  Methought 
you  seemed  afraid  during  the  ordeal,  and  now  you  look 
so  glad  and  of  good  cheer. 

Earl  Skule. 

[Well  at  ease.]  Marked  you  that  he  had  Sverre's  eyes 
as  he  spoke  ?  Whether  he  or  I  be  chosen  king,  the  choice 
will  be  good. 

Gregorius  Jonsson. 

[Uneasily.]  But  do  not  you  give  way.  Think  of  all 
who  stand  or  fall  with  your  cause. 

Earle  Skule. 

I  stand  now  upon  justice;  I  no  longer  fear  to  call  upon 
Saint   Olaf.     [Goes  out  to  the  left  with  his  followers. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

[Hastening  after  Dagfinn  the  Peasant.]  All  goes 
well,  good  Dagfinn,  all  goes  well;— but  keep  the  Earl  far 
from  the  King  when  he  is  chosen; — see  you  keep  them 
far  apart!  [All  go  out  to  the  left,  behind  the  church. 


A  hall  in  the  Palace.  In  front,  on  the  left,  is  a  low  win- 
dow; on  the  right,  the  entrance-door;  at  the  back,  a 
larger  door  which  leads  into  the  King's  Hall.  By 
the  window,  a  table;  chairs  and  benches  stand  about. 

Lady  Ragnhild  and  Margrete  enter  by  the  smaller 
door;  Sigrid  follows  immediately. 

Lady  Ragnhild. 
In  here  ? 


168  THE  PRETENDERS  [act  i 

Margrete. 
Ay,  here  it  is  darkest. 

Lady  Ragnhild. 

[Goes  to  the  window.]  And  here  we  can  look  down 
upon  the  mote-stead. 

Margrete. 

[Looks  out  cautiously.]  Ay,  there  they  are,  all  gathered 
behind  the  church.  [Turns,  in  tears.]  Yonder  must 
now  betide  what  will  bring  so  much  in  its  train. 

Lady  Ragnhild. 
Who  will  be  master  in  this  hall  to-morrow? 

Margrete. 
Oh,  hush!     So  heavy  a  day  I  had  never  thought  to  see. 

Lady  Ragnhild. 

It  had  to  be;  to  rule  in  another's  name  was  no  full 
work  for   him. 

Margrete. 

Ay,  it  had  to  be;  he  could  never  rest  content  with 
but  the  name  of  king. 

Lady  Ragnhild. 
Of  whom  speak  you  ? 

Margrete. 
Of  Hakon. 


\ 

act  i]  THE   PRETENDERS  169 

Lady  Ragnhild. 
I  spoke  of  the  Earl. 

Margrete. 
There  breathe  not  nobler  men  than  they  two. 

Lady  Ragnhild. 

See  you  Sigurd  Ribbung?     With  what  a  look  of  evil 
cunning  he  sits  there— like  a  wolf  in  chains. 

Margrete. 

Ay,  see!— He  folds  his  hands  before  him  on  his  sword- 
hilt  and  rests  his  chin  upon  them. 

Lady  Ragnhild. 
He  bites  his  beard  and  laughs 


Margrete. 
'Tis  an  evil  laugh. 

Lady  Ragnhild. 

He  knows  that  none  will  further  his  cause;— 'tis  that 
which  makes  him  wroth.  Who  is  yonder  thane  that 
speaks  now? 

Margrete. 
That  is  Gunnar  Grionbak. 

Lady  Ragnhild. 
Is  he  for  the  Earl  ? 


170  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  i 

Margrete. 
No,  he  is  for  the  King 

Lady  Ragnhild. 
[Looking  at  tier.]     For  whom  say  you  ? 

Margrete. 
For  Hakon  Hakonsson. 

Lady  Ragnhild. 

[Looks  out;  after  a  short  pause.]     Where  sits  Guthorm 
Ingesson  ? — I  see  him  not. 

Margrete. 
Behind  his  men,  lowest  of  all  there — in  a  long  mantle. 

Lady  Ragnhild. 
Ay,  there. 

Margrete. 

He  looks  as  though  he  were  ashamed 

Lady  Ragnhild. 
That  is  for  his  mother's  sake. 

Margrete. 
So  looked  not  Hakon. 

Lady  Ragnhild. 
Who  speaks  now  ? 


act  i]  THE   PRETENDERS  171 

Margrete. 
[Looking  out.]     Tord  Skolle,  the  thane  of  Ranafylke. 

Lady  Ragnhild. 
Is    h  e    for  the  Earl  ? 

Margrete. 
No — for  Hakon. 

Lady  Ragnhild. 
How  motionless  the  Earl  sits  listening! 

Margrete. 

Hakon  seems  thoughtful — but  strong  none  the  less. 
[With  animation.]  If  there  came  a  traveller  from  afar,  he 
could  pick  out  those  two  amongst  all  the  thousand  others. 

Lady  Ragnhild. 

« 

See,  Margrete!  Dagfinn  the  Peasant  drags  forth  a 
gilded  chair  for  Hakon 

Margrete. 
Paul  Flida  places  one  like  it  behind  the  Earl 


Lady  Ragnhild. 
Hakon 's  men  seek  to  hinder  it! 

Margrete. 
The  Earl  holds  fast  to  the  chair ! 


172  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  i 

Lady  Ragnhild. 

Hakon  speaks  wrathfully  to  him.  [Starts  back,  with  a 
cry,  from  the  window.]  Lord  Jesus!  Saw  you  his  eyes 
— and  his  smile !     No,  that  was  not  the  Earl! 

Margrete. 

[Who  has  followed  her  in  terror.]  'Twas  not  Hakon 
either!     Neither  one  nor  the  other! 

Sigrid. 
[At  the  window.]     Oh  pitiful!     Oh  pitiful! 

Margrete. 
Sigrid ! 

Lady  Ragnhild. 
You  here!  , 

Sigrid. 

» 
Goes  the  path  so  low  that  leads  up  to  the  throne! 

Margrete. 
Oh,  pray  with  us,  that  all  be  guided  for  the  best. 

Lady  Ragnhild. 

[White    and    horror-stricken,    to    Sigrid.]     Saw    you 

him ?     Saw  you  my  husband ?     His  eyes  and 

his  smile — I  should  not  have  known  him! 

Sigrid. 
Looked  he  like  Sigurd  Ribbung? 


act  i]  THE   PRETENDERS  173 

Lady  Ragnhild. 
[Softly.]     Ay,  he  looked  like  Sigurd  Ribbung. 

SlGRID. 

Laughed  he  like  Sigurd  ? 

Lady  Ragnhild. 
Ay,  ay! 

SlGRID. 

Then  must  we  all  pray. 

Lady  Ragnhild. 

[With  the  force  of  despair.]  The  Earl  must  be 
chosen  King!  'Twill  work  ruin  in  his  soul  if  he  be  not 
the  first  man  in  the  land! 

SlGRID. 

[More  loudly.]     Then  must  we  all  pray! 

Lady  Ragnhild. 

Hist!  What  is  that?  [At  the  window.]  What 
shouts!  All  the  men  have  risen;  all  the  banners  and 
standards  wave  in  the  wind. 

SlGRID. 

[Seizes  her  by  the  arm.]  Pray,  woman!  Pray  for 
your  husband! 

Lady  Ragnhild. 

Ay,  Holy  King  Olaf,  give  him  all  the  power  in  this 
land! 


174  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  i 

SlGRID. 

[Wildly.]     None — none!     Else  is  he  lost! 

N 

Lady  Ragnhild. 

He  must  have  the  power.  All  the  good  in  him  will 
grow  and  blossom  should  he  win  it. — Look  forth,  Mar- 
grete!  Listen!  [Starts  back  a  step.]  All  hands  are 
lifted  for  an  oath !  [Margrete  listens  at  the  window. 

Lady  Ragnhild. 
God  and  St.  Olaf,  to  whom  do  they  swear? 

Sigrid. 
Pray! 

[Margrete  listens,  and  tvith  uplifted  hand  motions 
for  silence. 

Lady  Ragnhild. 

[After  a  little  while.]     Speak! 

[From  the  mote-stead  is  heard  a  loud  blast  of  trumpets 
and  horns. 

Lady  Ragnhild. 

God  and  St.  Olaf!     To  whom  have  they  sworn  ? 

[A  short  pause. 

Margrete. 

[Turns  her  head  and  says:]  They  have  chosen  Hakon 
Hakonsson  king. 

[The  music  of  the  royal  procession  is  heard,  first  in 
the  distance  and  then  nearer  and  nearer.  Lady 
Ragnhild  clings  weeping  to  Sigrid,  who  leads  her 
quietly  out  on  the  right;    Margrete  remains  im- 


act  i]  THE   PRETENDERS  175 

movable,  leaning  against  the  window-frame.  The 
King's  attendants  open  tlie  great  doors,  disclosing 
the  interior  of  the  Hall,  which  is  gradually  filed 
by  tlie  procession  from  t/ie  mote-stead. 

HAkon. 

[In  the  doorway,  turning  to  Ivar  Bodde.]  Bring  me 
■  pen  and  wax  and  silk— I  have  parchment  here.  [Ad- 
vances exultantly  to  the  table  and  spreads  some  rolls  of 
parchment  upon  it.]     Margrete,  now  am  I  King! 

Margrete. 
Hail  to  my  lord  and  King! 

HAkon. 

I  thank  you.     [Looks  at  her  and  takes  her  hand.]     For- 
give me;    I  forgot  that  it  must  wound  you. 

Margrete. 

[Drawing  her  liand  away.]     It  did  not  wound  me;— 
of  a  surety  you  are  born  to  be  king. 

HAkon. 

[With  animation.]  Ay,  must  not  all  men  own  it,  who 
temember  how  marvellously  God  and  the  saints  have 
shielded  me  from  all  harm  ?  I  was  but  a  year  old  when 
the  Birchlegs  bore  me  over  the  mountains,  in  frost  and 
storm,  and  through  the  very  midst  of  those  who  sought 
my  life.  At  Nidaros  I  came  scatheless  from  the  Baglers1 
when  they  burnt  the  town  with  so  great  a  slaughter,  while 
1  See  note,  p.  161. 


176  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  i 

King  Inge  himself  barely  saved  his  life  by  climbing  on 
shipboard  up  the  anchor-cable. 

Margrete. 
Your  youth  has  been  a  hard  one. 

HAkon. 

[Looking  steadily  at  her.]     Methinks  you  might  have 
made  it  easier. 

Margrete. 
I? 

HAkon. 

You  might  have  been  so  good  a  foster-sister  to  me, 
through  all  the  years  when  we  were  growing  up  together. 

Margrete. 
But  it  fell  out  otherwise. 

HAkon. 

Ay,  it  fell  out  otherwise; — we  looked  at  each  other, 
I    from    my  corner,  you    from    yours,   but  we    seldom 

spoke [Impatiently.]     What  is  keeping  him  ?    [Ivar 

Bodde  comes  with  the  writing  materials.]     Are  you  there  ? 
Give  me  the  things! 

[HAkon  seats  himself  at  the  table  and  writes.  A  lit- 
tle while  after,  Earl  Skule  comes  in;  then  Dag- 
finn  the  Peasant,  Bishop  Nicholas  and  Ve- 

GARD  VjERADAL. 

HAkon. 

[Looks  up  and  lays  down  his  pen.]     Know  you,  Sir 
Earl,  what  I  am  writing  here?     [The  Earl  approaches.] 


act  i]  THE  PRETENDERS  m 

This  is  to  my  mother;  I  thank  her  for  all  her  love,  and 
kiss  her  a  thousand  times— here  in  the  letter  you  under- 
stand. She  is  to  be  sent  eastward  to  Borgasyssel,  there 
to  live  with  all  queenly  honours. 

Earl  Skule. 
You  will  not  keep  her  in  the  palace  ? 

HAkon. 

She  is  too  dear  to  me,  Earl;-a  king  must  have  none 

about  him  whom  he  loves  too  well.     A  king  must  act  with 

free  hands;   he  must  stand  alone;  he  must  neither  be  led 

nor  lured.     There  is  so  much  to  be  mended  in  Norway. 

[Goes  on  writing. 
Vegard  Vjeradal. 
[Softly  to  Bishop  Nicholas.]     'Tis  by  my  counsel  he 
deals  thus  with  Inga,  his  mother. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
I  knew  your  hand  in  it  at  once. 

Vegard  V^eradal. 
But  now  one  good  turn  deserves  another. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
Wait.     I  will  keep  my  promise. 

HAkon. 
[Gives  the  parchment  to  Ivar  Bodde.]     Fold  it  to- 
gether aod    bear  it  to  her  yourself,   with   many  loviue 

greetings b 

•       \ 


178  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  i 

IVAR    BODDE. 

[Who  has  glanced  at  the  parchment.]     My  lord — you 
write  here — "to-day" ! 

HAkon. 

The  wind  is  fair  for  a  southward  course. 

Dagfinn. 

[Sloivly.]     Bethink  you,  my  lord   King,  that  she  has 
lain  all  night  on  the  altar-steps  in  prayer  and  fasting. 

Ivar  Bodde. 
And  she  may  well  be  weary  after  the  ordeal. 

HAkon. 

True,   true; — my   good,   kind   mother !     [Collects 

himself.]     Well,  if  she  be  too  weary,  let  her  wait  until 
to-morrow. 

Ivar  Bodde. 

It  shall  be  as  you  will.     [Puts  another  parchment  for  - 
ward.]     But  this  other,  my  lord. 

HAkon. 
That  other? — Ivar  Bodde,  I  cannot. 

Dagfinn. 
[Points  to  the  letter  for  Inga.]     Yet  you  could  do  that. 

Ivar  Bodde. 
All  things  sinful  must  be  put  away. 


act  i]  THE   PRETENDERS  179 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

[Who   has  drawn  near  in  the  meantime.]     Bind   the 
Karl's  hands,  King  Hakon. 

HAkon. 

[In  a  low  voice.]     Think  you    that    is  needful  ? 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
At  no  cheaper  rate  can  you  buy  peace  in  the  land. 

HAkon. 
Then  I  can  do  it!     Give  me  the  pen!  [Writes. 

Earl  Skule. 

[To  the  Bishop,  who  crosses  to  the  right.]     You  have 
the  King's  ear,  it  would  seem. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
For  your  behoof. 

Earl  Skule. 
Say  you  so  ? 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

Before  nightfall  you  will  thank  me. 

[He  moves  away. 

HAkon. 

[Hands  tfie  Earl  the  parchment.]     Read  that,   Earl 
Skule. 

Earl  Skule. 

[Reads,  looks  in  surprise  at  the  King,  and  says  in  a  low 
voice.]     You  break  with  Kanga  the  Young  ? 


180  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  i 

HAkon. 

With  Kanga  whom  I  have  loved  more  than  all  the 
world.  From  this  day  forward  she  must  never  more 
cross  the  King's  path. 

Earl  Skule. 

This  that  you  do  is  a  great  thing,  Hakon.  Mine  own 
memory  tells  me  what  it  must  cost. 

Hakon. 

Whoever  is  too  dear  to  the  King  must  away. — Tie 
up  the  letter.  [Gives  it  to  Ivar  Bodde. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

[Bending  over  the  chair.]  You  have  made  a  great  stride 
towards  the  Earl's  friendship,  my  lord  King. 

HIkon. 

[Holds  out  his  hand  to  him.]  I  thank  you,  Bishop 
Nicholas;  you  counselled  me  for  the  best.  Ask  a  grace 
of  me,  and  I  will  grant  it.    . 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
Will  you  ? 

HAkon. 

I  promise  it  on  my  kingly  faith. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
Then  make  Vegard  Vseradal  thane  of  Halogaland. 

HAkon. 

Vegard  ?  He  is  well-nigh  the  trustiest  friend  I  have; 
I  am  loath  to  send  him  so  far  from  me. 


act  i]  THE   PRETENDERS  181 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
The  King's  friend  must  be  royally  rewarded,   -fimd- 
the  Earl's  hands  as  I  have  counselled  you,  and  you  will 
be  secure  for  ever  and  a  day. 

HAkon. 

[Takes  a  sheet  of  parchment.]  Vegard  shall  bear  rule 
in  Halogaland.  [Writing.]  I  hereby  grant  it  under  my 
r°^al  hand-  [The  Bishop  retires. 

Earl  Skule. 

[Approaches  the  table.]     What  write  you  now?   ' 

HAkon. 
[Hands  him  the  sheet.]     Read. 

Earl  Skule. 

[Reads,  and  looks  steadily  at  the  King.]     Vegard  Vsera- 
dal  ?     In  Halogaland  ? 

HAkon. 
The  northern  part  stands  vacant. 

Earl  Skule. 
Bethink  you  that  Andres   Skialdarband1  has   also  a 
charge  in  the  north.     They  two  are  bitter  foes;-Andres 
©kialdarband  is  of  my  following 

HAkon. 

[Smiling  and  rising.]     And  Vegard  V*radal  of  mine 
Inerefore  they  must  e'en  make  friends  again,  the  sooner 
1  Pronounce  Shaldarband. 


182  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  i 

the  better.    Henceforth  there  must  be  no  enmity  between 
the  King's  men  and  the  Earl's. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
Ha! — this  may  go  too  far.  [Approaches,  uneasy. 

Earl  Skule. 
Your  thoughts  are  wise  and  deep,  Hakon. 

Hakon. 

/ 

[Warmly.]     Earl  Skule,  to-day  have  I  taken  the  king- 
dom from  you — let  your  daughter  share  it  with  me! 

Earl  Skule. 
My  daughter! 

Margrete. 
\^    Oh,  God! 

HAkon. 

N     Margrete,  will  you  be  my  Queen  ? 

[Margrete  is  silent. 

Hakon. 

[Takes  her  hand.]     Answer  me. 

Margrete. 
^   [Softly.]     I  will  gladly  be  your  wife. 

Earl  Skule. 

[Pressing  Hakon's  hand.]     Peace  and  friendship  from 
my  heart! 


act  i]  THE   PRETENDERS  183 

HAkoN. 
I  thank  you. 

Ivar  Bodde. 
[To  Dagfinn.]     Heaven  be  praised;  here  is  the  dawn. 

Dagfinn. 

I  almost  believe  it.     Never  before  have  I  liked  the 
Earl  so  well. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

[Behind  him.]     Ever  on  your  guard,  good  Dagfinn— 
ever  on  your  guard. 

Ivar  Bodde. 

[To  Vegard.]     Now  are  you  thane  in   Halogaland; 
here  you  have  it  under  the  King's  hand. 

[Gives  him  the  letter. 

Vegard  V^eradal. 

I  will  thank  the  King  for  his  favour  another  time. 

[About  to  go. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

[Stopi  him.]     Andres  Skialdarband  is  an  ugly  neigh- 
bour; be  not  cowed  by  him. 

Vegard  V/eradal. 
No  one  has  yet  cowed  Vegard  Vaeradal.  [Goes. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
[Following.]     Be  as  rock  and  flint  to  Andres  Skialdar- 
band—and,  while  I  think  on't,  take  my  blessing  with  you. 


184  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  i 

IVAR    BODDE. 

[Who  has  been  waiting  behind  the  King  with  the  parch- 
ments in  his  hand.]     Here  are  the  letters,  my  lord. 

HAkon. 
Good;  give  them  to  the  Earl. 

Ivar  Bodde. 
To  the  Earl  ?     Will  you  not  seal  them  ? 

HAkon. 

The  Earl  is  wont  to  do  that; — he  holds  the  seal. 

Ivar  Bodde. 

[Softly.]     Ay,   hitherto  —  while  he  was  regent  —  but 
now! 

HAkon. 

Now  as  before; — the  Earl  holds  the  seal. 

[Moves  away. 

Earl  Skule. 

Give  me  the  letters,  Ivar  Bodde. 

[Goes  to  the  table  with  them,  takes  out  the  Great  Seal 
which  he  wears  under  his  girdle,  and  seals  the 
letters  during  the  following. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

[Muttering.]     Hakon    Hakonsson    is    King — and    the 
Earl  holds  the  royal  seal; — I  like  that — I  like  that. 


act  i]  THE   PRETENDERS  185 

HAkon. 
What  says  my  lord  Bishop  ? 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
I  say  that  God  and  St.  Olaf  watch  over  their  holy 
church-  [Goes  into  the  King's  Hall. 

HAkon. 
[Approaching    Margrete.]     A    wise    queen    can    do 
great  things  in  the  land:    I  chose  you  fearlessly,  for  I 
know  you  are  wise. 

Margrete. 
Only   that? 

HAkon. 

What  mean  you  ? 

Margrete. 
Nothing,  my  lord,  nothing. 

HAkon. 

And  you  will  bear  me  no  grudge  if  for  my  sake  you 
have  had  to  forgo  fair  hopes  ? 

Margrete. 
I  have  forgone  no  fair  hopes  for  your  sake. 

HAkon. 

And  you  will  stand  ever  near  me,  and  give  me  good 
counsel  ? 

Margrete. 
I  would  fain  stand  near  to  you. 


186  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  i 

Hakon. 

And  give  me  good  counsel.  I  thank  you  for  that; 
a  woman's  counsel  profits  every  man,  and  henceforth  I 
have  none  but  you — my  mother  I  had  to  send  away 

Margrete. 
Ay,  she  was  too  dear  to  you 


Hakon. 

And  I  am  King.  Farewell  then,  Margrete!  You  are 
so  young  yet;  but  next  summer  shall  our  bridal  be, — 
and  from  that  hour  I  swear  to  keep  you  by  my  side  in 
all  seemly  faith  and  honour. 

Margrete. 

[Smiles  sadly.]  Ay,  'twill  be  long,  I  know,  ere  you 
send  me  away. 

Hakon. 
[Brightly.]     Send  you  away  ?     That  will  I  never  do. 

Margrete. 

[With  tears  in  her  eyes.]     No,  that  Hakon  does  only 
i      to  those  who  are  too  dear  to  him. 

[She  goes  towards  the  entrance  door.     Hakon  gazes 
thoughtfully  after  her. 

Lady  Ragnhild. 

[From  the  right.]  The  King  and  the  Earl  tarry  here 
so  long!  My  fears  are  killing  me; — Margrete,  what  has 
the  King  said  and  done? 


act  i]  THE   PRETENDERS  187 

Margrete. 

Oh,  much,  much!     Last  of  all,  he  chose  a  thane  and 
a  Queen. 

Lady  Ragnhild. 
You,  Margrete? 

Margrete. 
[Throws  her  arms  round  fier  motlier's  neck.]     Yes! 

Lady  Ragnhild. 
You  are  to  be  Queen! 

Margrete. 
Queen  only;— but  I  think  I  am  glad  even  of  that. 

[She  and  her  mother  go  out  to  tJie  right. 

Earl  Skule. 

[To  Ivar  Bodde.]  Here  are  our  letters;  bear  them 
to  the  King's  mother  and  to  Kanga. 

[Ivar  Bodde  bows  and  goes. 

Dag  finn. 

[In  the  doorway  of  the  hall.]  The  Archbishop  of 
N.daros  craves  leave  to  offer  King  Hakon  Hakonsson 
Ins  homage. 

HAkon. 

[Draws  a  deep  breath.]  At  lust,  then,  I  am  King  of 
Norway.  6 

Earl  Skule. 

[Places  the  Great  Seal  in  his  girdle.]     But  /  rule  the    , 
realm. 


ACT    SECOND 

Banquet  Hall  in  the  Palace  at  Bergen.  A  large  bay- 
window  in  tlie  middle  of  the  back  wall,  along  which 
there  is  a  dais  with  seats  for  the  ladies.  Against 
the  left  wall  stands  the  throne,  raised  some  steps 
above  the  floor;  in  the  centre  of  the  opposite  wall  is 
the  great  entrance  door.  Banners,  standards,  shields 
and  weapons,  with  many-coloured  draperies,  hang 
from  the  wall-timbers  and  from  tlie  carven  rafters. 
Around  the  hall  stand  drinking-tables,  with  flagons, 
horns,  and  beakers. 

King  HAkon  sits  upon  the  da'is,  with  Margrete,  Si- 
grid,  Lady  Ragnhild,  and  many  noble  ladies. 
Ivar  Bodde  stands  behind  the  King's  chair.  Round 
the  drinking-tables  are  seated  the  King's  and  the 
Earl's  men,  with  guests.  At  the  foremost  table  on 
the  right  sit,  among  others,  Dagfinn  the  Peasant, 
Gregorius  Jonsson,  and  Paul  Flida.  Earl 
Skule  and  Bishop  Nicholas  are  playing  chess  at 
a  table  on  the  left.  The  Earl's  house-folk  go  to  and 
fro,  bearing  cans  of  liquor.  From  an  adjoining  room, 
music  is  heard  during  the  following  scene. 

Dagfinn. 

The  fifth  day  now  wears  on,  yet  the  henchmen  are 
none  the  less  nimble  at  setting  forth  the  brimming 
flagons. 

188 


act  ii]  THE  PRETENDERS  189 

Paul  Flida. 
It  was  never  the  Earl's  wont  to  stint  his  guests. 

Dagfinn. 

No,  so  it  would  seem.     So  royal  a  bridal-feast  was 
never  seen  in  Norway  before. 

Paul  Flida. 

Earl    Skule   has   never   before   given   a   daughter   in 
marriage. 

Dagfinn. 
True,  true;  the  Earl  is  a  mighty  man. 

A  Man-at-Arms. 

He  holds  a  third  part  of  the  kingdom.  That  is  more 
than  any  earl  has  held  heretofore. 

Paul  Flida. 
But  the  King's  part  is  larger. 

Dagfinn. 

We  talk  not  of  that  here;  we  are  friends  now,  and 
fully  at  one.  [Drinks  to  Paul.]  So  let  King  be  King 
and  Earl  be  Earl. 

Paul  Flida. 
[Laughs.]     'Tis  easy  to  hear  that  you  are  a  King's 


man 


Dagfinn. 

That  should  the  Earl's  men  also  be. 


190  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  n 

Paul  Flida. 

Never.     We  have  sworn  fealty  to  the  Earl,  not  to  the 
King. 

Dagfinn. 

That  riay  yet  have  to  be  done. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

[To  the  Earl,  under  cover  of  the  game.]     Hear  you 
what  Dagfinn  the  Peasant  says  ? 

Earl  Skule. 
[Without  looking  up.]     I  hear. 

Gregorius  Jonsson. 

[Looking  steadily  at  Dagfinn.]     Has  the  King  thoughts 
of  that  ? 

Dagfinn. 

Nay,  nay, — let  be;— no  wrangling  to-day. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

The  King  would  force  your  men  to  swear  him  fealty, 
Earl. 

Gregorius  Jonsson. 

[Louder.]     Has  the  King  thoughts  of  that,  I  ask  ? 

Dagfinn. 

I  will  not  answer.     Let  us  drink  to  peace  and  friend- 
ship between  the  King  and  the  Earl.     The  ale  is  good. 


act  ii]  THE   PRETENDERS  191 

Paul  Flida. 
It  has  had  time  enough  to  mellow. 

Gregorius  Jonsson. 

Three  times  has  the  Earl  prepared  the  bridal — three 
times  the  King  promised  to  come — three  times  he  came 
not. 

Dagfinn. 

Blame  the  Earl  for  that:  he  gave  us  plenty  to 
do  in  Viken. 

Paul  Flida. 

'Tis  said  Sigurd  Ribbung  gave  you  still  more  to  do  in 
Vermeland. 

Dagfinn. 

[Flaring  up.]  Ay,  and  who  was  it  that  let  Sigurd 
Ribbung  slip  through  their  fingers  ? 

Gregorius  Jonsson. 

Sigurd  Ribbung  fled  from  us  at  Nidaros,  that  all 
men  know. 

Dagfinn. 
But  no  man  knows  that  you  did  aught  to  hinder  him. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

[To  the  Earl,  who  is  pondering  on  a  move.]  Hear 
you,  Earl  ?     It  was  you  who  let  Sigurd  Ribbung  escape. 

Earl  Skule. 
[Makes  a  move.]     That  is  an  old  story. 


u 


192  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  ii 

Gregorius  Jonsson. 

Have  you  not  heard,  then,  of  the  Icelander  Andres 
Torsteinsson,  Sigurd  Ribbung's  friend 

Dagfinn. 

Ay;  when  Sigurd  had  escaped,  you  hanged  the  Ice- 
lander— that  I  know. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

[Makes  a  move  and  says  laughingly  to  the  Earl.]  I 
take  the  pawn,  Sir  Earl.1 

Earl  Skule. 

[Aloud.]     Take  him;   a  pawn  is  of  small  account. 

[Makes  a  move. 

Dagfinn. 

Ay;  that  the  Icelander  found  to  his  cost,  when  Sigurd 
Ribbung  escaped  to  Vermeland. 

[Suppressed  laughter  amongst  the  King's  men;  the 
conversation  is  continued  in  a  low  tone;  presently  a 
man  comes  in  and  whispers  to  Gregorius  Jonsson. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
Then  I  move  here,  and  you  have  lost. 

Earl  Skule. 
So  it  would  seem. 

'Bishop  Nicholas's  speech,  "Nu  slar  jeg  bonden,  herre  jarl," 
means  literally,  "Now  I  strike  (or  slay)  the  peasant";  the  pawn 
being  called  in  Norwegian  "bonde,"  peasant,  as  in  German  "Bauer." 
Thus  in  this  speech  and  the  next  the  Bishop  and  the  Earl  are  gird- 
ing at  Dagfinn  the  Peasant.  [Our  own  word  "pawn"  comes  from 
the  Spanish  peon=a  foot-soldier  or  day-labourer.] 


act  ii]  THE  PRETENDERS  19s 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

Earl  Skule. 

[Strews  the  ^^  topsy-turvy  and  rises.]     I  have  lone 
been  weary  of  guarding  kings.  g 

Gregorius  Jonsson. 
JAvproaclM  and  says  in  a  low  tone]     Sir  Earl,  Jos- 
for  ,ea  ""*  ^  'he  shiP  now  &>  ™dy 

Earl  Skule. 
fe'Se  ££     ^    °'U    "    ~"    **>** 

Gregorius  Jonsson. 

thluihff"9  *  *apAJ    Ear1,  E"rl'-is    l  h  !  s    we»  «». 

Earl  Skule. 
What? 

Gregorius  Jonsson. 
It  bears  the  King's  seal. 

Earl  Skule. 
I  am  acting  for  the  King's  good. 

Gregorius  Jonsson. 

Then  ict  m  Bnj  ililns(1,f  n,jWt  lhc  offer 

1  Pronounce  Yostein. 


194  THE  PRETENDERS  [act  n 

Earl  Skule. 

That  he  will  not,  if  he  has  his  own  way.  His  whole 
heart  is  bent  on  cowing  the  Ribbungs,  therefore  he  is 
fain  to  secure  himself  on  other  sides. 

Gregorius  Jonsson. 
Your  way  may  be  wise, — but  it  is  dangerous. 

Earl  Skule. 

Leave  that  to  me.  Take  the  letter,  and  bid  Josteln 
sail  forthwith. 

Gregorius  Jonsson. 

It  shall  be  as  you  command. 

[Goes  out  to  the  right,  and  presently  comes  in  again. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

[To  the  Earl.]  You  have  much  to  see  to,  it  would 
seem. 

Earl  Skule. 

But  small  thanks  for  it. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
The  King  has  risen. 
[HAkon  comes  down;  all  the  men  rise  from  the  tables. 

HAkon 

[To  the  Bishop.]  We  are  rejoiced  to  see  you  bear  up 
so  bravely  and  well  through  all  these  days  of  merriment. 


act  ii]  THE   PRETENDERS  195 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

There  comes  a  flicker  now  and  again,  my  lord  King; 
l)i it  'twill  scarce  last  long.  I  have  lain  sick  all  the  winter 
through. 

Hakon. 

Ay,  ay, — you  have  lived  a  strong  life,  rich  in  deeds 
of  fame. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

[Shakes  his  head.]  Ah,  'tis  little  enough  I  have  done, 
and  I  have  much  still  left  to  do.  If  I  but  knew  whether 
I  should  have  time  for  it  all! 

Hakon. 

The  living  must  take  up  the  tasks  of  those  who  go 
before,  honoured  lord;  we  all  have  the  welfare  of  the 
land  at  heart.  [Turns  to  the  Earl.]  I  marvel  much 
at  one  thing:  that  neither  of  our  thanes  from  Haloga- 
land  has  come  to  the  bridal. 

Earl  Skule. 

True;  I  doubted  not  that  Andres  Skialdarband  would 
be  here. 

HAkon. 

[Smiling.]     And  Vegard  Vaeradal  too. 

Earl  Skule. 
Ay,  Vegard  too. 

HAkon. 

[In  jest.]  And  I  trust  you  would  now  have  received 
my  old  friend  better  than  you  did  seven  years  ago  on 


196  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  n 

Oslo   wharf,   when  you   stabbed   him   in   the   cheek   so 
that  the  blade  cut  its  way  out. 

Earl  Skule. 

[With  a  forced  laugh.]  Ay,  the  time  that  Gunnulf, 
your  mother's  brother,  cut  off  the  right  hand  of  Sira 
Eiliv,  my  best  friend  and  counsellor. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

[Merrily.]  And  when  Dagfinn  the  Peasant  and  the 
men-at-arms  set  a  strong  night-watch  on  the  King's  ship, 
saying  that  the  King  was  unsafe  in  the  Earl's  ward  ? 

HAkon. 

[Seriously.]     Those  days  are  old  and  forgotten. 

Dagfinn. 

[Approaching.]  Now  may  we  sound  the  call  to  the 
weapon-sports  on  the  green,  if  so  please  you,  my  lord. 

Hakon. 

Good.  To-day  will  we  give  up  to  nought  but  merri- 
ment; to-morrow  we  must  turn  our  thoughts  again  to 
the  Ribbungs  and  the  Earl  of  Orkney. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
Ay,  he  denies  to  pay  tribute,  is  it  not  so  ? 

HAkon. 

Were  I  once  well  rid  of  the  Ribbungs,  I  would  myself 
fare  westward. 

[HAkon  goes  towards  the  dais,  gives  his  hand  to 
Margrete,  and  leads  Iter  out  to  tfie  right;  tlie 
others  gradually  follow. 


act  ii]  THE  PRETENDERS  197 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
Tamb?1""  BOD"E]    Wh°  "  the  man  called  Jostein 

IVAR    BoDDE. 

There  is  a  trader  from  Orkney  who  bears  that  name. 
Bishop  Nicholas. 
agaiT    ^"^     ^    ^     ^    R°W   he   Sai,S   home 

IVAR    BODDE. 

So  I  think. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
[Softly.]     Witli  a  precious  freight,  Ivar  Bodde. 

IVAR   BODDE. 

Corn  and  raiment,  most  like. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
And  a  letter  from  Earl  Skule. 

Ivar  Bodde. 
[Starting.]     To  whom  ? 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
I  know  not;    it  bore  the  King's  seal 

Ivar  Bodde. 

[Seizes  him  by  the  arm.]     Lord  Bishop,-is  it  as  you 

sav  r  J 


198  THE   PRETENDERS  act  n 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
Hush!     Do  not  mix  me  up  in  the  matter.     [Retires. 

Ivar  Bodde. 

Then  must  I  strai^atway Dagfinn  the  Peasant! 

Dagfinn !     Dagfinn ! 

[Pushes  through  the  croivd  towards  the  door. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

[In  a  tone  of  commiseration,  to  Gregorius  Jonsson.] 
Never  a  day  but  one  or  another  must  suffer  in  goods  or 
freedom. 

Gregorius  Jonsson. 
Who  is  it  now  ? 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

A  poor  trader, — Jostein  Tamb  methinks  they  called 
him.  , 

Gregorius  Jonsson. 
Jostein ? 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
Dagfinn  the  Peasant  would  forbid  him  to  set  sail. 

Gregorius  Jonsson. 
Dagfinn  would  forbid  him,  say  you  ? 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

He  went  even  now. 

■ 
Gregorius  Jonsson. 

Pardon,  my  lord;    I  must  make  speed 


act  ii]  THE   PRETENDERS  109 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

Ay,  do  even  so,  my  dear  lord; — Dagfinn  the  Peasant 
is  so  hasty. 

[Gregorius  Jonsson  hastens  out  to  the  right  along 
ivith  the  remainder  of  the  company;  only  Earl 
Skule  and  Bishop  Nicholas  are  left  behind  in 
tfie  hall. 

Earl  Skule. 

[U  alk.s  up  and  down  in  deep  thougltt;  Jie  seems  sud- 
denly to  awaken;  looks  round  him,  and  says:]  How  still 
it  has  become  here  of  a  sudden! 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
The  King  has  gone. 

Earl  Skule. 
And  every  one  has  followed  him. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
All,  save  us. 

Earl  Skule. 

It  is  a  great  thing  to  be  King. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
[Tentatively.]     Are  you  fain  to  try  it,  Earl? 

Earl  Skulk. 

[With  a  scrions  smile.]  I  have  tried  it;  every  night 
that  brings  me  sleep  makes  me  King  of  Norway. 


200  THE   PRETENDERS  [zjct  n 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
Dreams  forbode. 

Earl  Skule. 
Ay,  and  tempt. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

Not  you,  surely.  In  bygone  days,  that  I  could  under- 
stand— but  now,  when  you  hold  a  third  part  of  the  king- 
dom, rule  as  the  first  man  in  the  land,  and  are  the 
Queen's  father 

Earl  Skule. 

Now  most  of  all — now  most  of  all. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

Hide  nothing!  Confess;  for  verily  I  can  see  a  great 
pain  is  gnawing  you. 

Earl  Skule. 

Now  most  of  all,  I  say.  This  is  the  great  curse 
that  lies  upon  my  whole  life:  to  stand  so  near  to  the 
highest, — with  an  abyss  between.  One  leap,  and  on 
the  other  side  are  the  kingship,  and  the  purple  robe, 
the  throne,  the  might,  and  all!  I  have  it  daily  before 
my  eyes — but  can  never  reach  it. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
True,  Earl,  true. 

Earl  Skule. 

When  they  made  Guthorm  Sigurdsson  king,  I  was 
in   the   full  strength   of   my  youth;   it  was  as  though  a 


act  ii]  THE   PRETENDERS  201 

voice  cried  aloud  within  me:  Away  with  the  child, — I 
am  the  man,  the  strong  man! — But  Guthorm  was  the 
king's  son ;  there  yawned  an  abyss  between  me  and  the 
throne. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

And  you  dared  not  venture 

Earl  Skule. 

Then  Erling  Steinvaeg  was  chosen  by  the  Slittungs. 
The  voice  cried  within  me  again:  Skule  is  a  greater 
chieftain  than  Erling  Steinvaeg!  But  I  must  needs  have 
broken  with  the  Birchlegs, — t  hat  was  the  abyss  that 
time. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

And  Erling  became  king  of  the  Slittungs,  and  after 
of  the  Ribbungs,  and  still  you  waited! 

Earl  Skule. 
I  waited  for  Guthorm  to  die. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

And  Guthorm  died,  and  Inge  Bardsson,  your  brother, 
became  king. 

Earl  Skule. 

Then  I  waited  for  my  brother's  death.  He  was 
sickly  from  the  first;  every  morning,  when  we  met  at 
holy  mass,  I  would  cast  stolen  glances  to  see  whether 
his  sickness  increased.  Every  twitch  of  pain  that 
crossed  his  face  was  as  a  puff  of  wind  in  my  sails,  and 
bore  me  nearer  to  the  throne.     Every  sigh  he  breathed 


202  THE  PRETENDERS  [act  ii 

in  his  agony  sounded  to  me  like  an  echoing  trumpet- 
blast,  like  a  herald  from  afar,  proclaiming  that  the 
throne  should  soon  be  mine.  Thus  I  tore  up  by  the 
roots  every  thought  of  brotherly  kindness;  and  Inge 
died,  and  Hakon  came — and  the  Birchlegs  made  h  i  m 
king. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
And  you  waited. 

Earl  Skule. 

Methought  help  must  come  from  above.  I  felt  the 
kingly  strength  within  me,  and  I  was  growing  old;  every 
day  that  passed  was  a  day  taken  from  my  life-work. 
Each  evening  I  thought:  To-morrow  will  come  the 
miracle  that  shall  strike  him  down  and  set  me  in  the 
empty  seat. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

Small  was  then  Hakon 's  power;  he  was  no  more 
than  a  child ;  it  wanted  but  a  single  step  from  you — yet 
you  took  it  not. 

Earl  Skule. 

That  step  was  hard  to  take;  it  would  have  parted 
me  from  my  kindred  and  from  all  my  friends. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

Ay,    there    is  the  rub,  Earl  Skule, — t  hat    is  the 

curse  which  has  lain  upon  your  life.     You  would  fain 

\      know  every  way  open  at  need, — you  dare  not  break  all 

s    your  bridges  and  keep  only  one,  defend  it  alone,  and  on 

rCconquer  or  falH     You  lay  snares  for  your  foe,  you  set 

traps  for  his  feet,"  and  hang  sharp  swords  over  his  head ; 


act  ii]  THE   PRETENDERS  203 

you  strew  poison  in  every  dish,  and  you  spread  a  hun- 
dred nets  for  him;  but  when  he  walks  into  your  toils 
you  dare  not  draw  the  string;  if  he  stretch  out  his  hand 
for  the  poison,  you  think  it  safer  he  should  fall  by  the 
sword;  if  he  is  like  to  be  caught  in  the  morning,  you 
hold  it  wiser  to  wait  till  eventide. 

Earl  Skule. 

[Looking  earnestly  at  him.]     And  what  would    you 
do,  my  lord  Bishop  ? 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

Speak  not  of  me;    my  work  is  to  build   up  thrones 
in  this  land,  not  to  sit  on  them  and  rule. 

Earl  Skulk. 

[After  a  short  pause.]     Answer  me    one    thing,  my 
honoured   lord,   and   answer  me  truly.     How   comes  it 
)[that  Hakon   can   follow  the  straight  path  so   unflinch- 
ingly ?     He  is  no  wiser,  no  bolder  than  I. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
Who  does  the  greatest  work  in  this  world  ? 

Earl  Skule. 
The  greatest  man. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
But  who  is  the  greatest  man  ? 

Earl  Skule. 
The  bravest. 


204  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  n 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

So  says  the  warrior.  A  priest  would  say:  the  man  of 
greatest  faith, — a  philosopher:  the  most  learned.  But 
it  is  none  of  these,  Earl  Skule.  The  most  f  &-tlu  - 
n-^t°  ^^n1  ;°  +kp>  ^rfategt  ^r13"  It  is  the  most  fortu- 
nate man  that  does  the  greatest  deeds — he  whom  the 
cravings  of  his  time  seize  like  a  passion,  begetting 
thoughts  he  himself  cannot  fathom,  and  pointing  to 
paths  which  lead  he  knows  not  whither,  but  which  he 
follows  and  must  follow  till  he  hears  the  people  shout 
for  joy,  and,  looking  around  him  with  wondering  eyes, 
finds  that  he  has  done  a  mighty  deed. 

Earl  Skule. 
Ay,  there  is  that  unswerving  confidence  in  Hakon. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

It  is  that  which  the  Romans  called  ingenium. — Truly 
I  am  not  strong  in  Latin;    but  'twas  called  ingenium. 

Earl  Skule. 

[Thoughtfully  at  first,  afterwards  in  increasing  excite- 
ment.] Is  Hakon  made  of  other  clay  than  mine  ?  The 
fortunate  man  ? — Ay,  does  not  everything  thrive  with 
him  ?  Does  not  everything  shape  itself  for  the  best, 
when  he  is  concerned  ?  Even  the  peasants  note  it;  they 
say  the  trees  bear  fruit  twice,  and  the  fowls  hatch  out 
two  broods  every  summer,  whilst  Hakon  is  king.  Ver- 
meland,  where  he  burned  and  harried,  stands  smiling 

1  Den  lykkeligste  mand.  The  word  lykke  means  not  only  luck  or 
fortune,  but  happiness.  To  render  lykkeligste  completely,  we  should 
require  a  word  in  which  the  ideas  "fortunate"  and  "happy"  should 
be  blent. 


act  ii]  THE   PRETENDERS  205 

with  its  houses  built  afresh,  and  its  corn-lands  bending 
heavy-eared  before  the  breeze.  'Tis  as  though  blood 
and  ashes  fertilised  the  land  where  Hakon's  armies 
pass;  'tis  as  though  the  Lord  clothed  with  double  ver- 
dure what  Hakon  has  trampled  down;  'tis  as  though 
the  holy  powers  made  haste  to  blot  out  all  evil  in  his 
track.  And  how  easy  has  been  his  path  to  the  throne! 
He  needed  that  Inge  should  die  early,  and  Inge  died: 
his  youth  needed  to  be  watched  and  warded,  and  his 
men  kept  watch  and  ward  around  him;  he  needed  the 
ordeal,  and  his  mother  arose  and  bore  the  iron  for  him. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
[With  an  involuntary  outburst.]     But  we — we  two ! 

Earl  Skule. 
We? 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

You,  I  would  say — what  of  you  ? 

Earl  Skule. 
The  right  is  Hakon's,  Bishop. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

The  right  is  his,  for  he  is  the  fortunate  one;  'tis 
even  the  summit  of  fortune,  to  have  the  right.  But  by 
what  right  has  Hakon  the  right,  and  not  you  ? 

Earl  Skule. 

[After  a  short  pause.]  There  are  things  I  pray  God 
lo  save  me  from  thinking  upon. 


206  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  ii 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

Saw  you  never  an  old  picture  in  Christ's  Church 
at  Nidaros  ?  It  shows  the  Deluge  rising  and  rising 
over  all  the  hills,  so  that  there  is  but  one  single  peak 
left  above  the  waters.  Up  it  clambers  a  whole  house- 
hold, father  and  mother  and  son  and  son's  wife  and 
children; — and  the  son  is  hurling  the  father  back  into 
the  flood  to  gain  better  footing;  and  he  will  cast  his 
mother  down  and  his  wife  and  all  his  children,  to  win 
to  the  top  himself; — for  up  there  he  sees  a  handsbreadth 
of  ground,  where  he  may  keep  life  in  him  for  an  hour. — 
That,  Earl,  that  is  the  saga  of  wisdom,  and  the  saga 
of  every  wise  man. 


But  the  right! 


Earl  Skule. 


Bishop  Nicholas. 


.       The  son    had    the  right.     He  had  strength,  and  the 
/   craving    for    life; — fulfil    your    cravings    and    use    your 
j  v  strength:  so  much  right  has  every  man. 

Earl  Skule. 
Ay,  for  that  which  is  good. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

Words,  empty  words!  There  is  neither  good  nor 
evil,  up  nor  down,  high  nor  low.  You  must  forget 
such  words,  else  will  you  never  take  the  last  stride, 
never  leap  the  abyss,  [In  a  subdued  voice  and  in- 
sistently.] You  must  not  hate  a  party  or  a  cause  for 
that  the  party  or  the  cause  would  have  this  and 
j*  not  that;  but  you  must  hate  every  man  of  a  party 
for  that  he  is  against  you,  and  you  must  hate  all  who 


S 


Arr„]  THE   PRETENDERS  207 

gather  round  a  cause,  for  that  the  cause  clashes  with 
your  will.  Whatever  is  helpful  to  you,  is  good— what- 
ever lays  stumbling-blocks  in  your  path  is  evil. 

Eahl  Skule. 

[Gazing  thoughtfuUn  before  him.]  What  has  that 
throne  not  eost  me,  which  yet  I  have  not  reached!  And 
what  has  it  cost  Hakon,  who  now  sits  in  it  so  securely! 
I  was  young,  and  I  forswore  my  sweet  secret  love  to 
ally  mvself  with  a  powerful  house.  I  prayed  to  the 
saints  that  I  might  be  blessed  with  a  son— I  got  only 
daughters. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

Hakon  will  have  sons,  Earl— mark  that! 

Earl  Skule. 
[Crossing  to  the  window  on  the  right.]     Ay— all  things 
fall  out  to  Hakon's  wish. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
And  you— will  you  suffer  yourself  to  be  outlawed 
bom  happiness  all  your  life  through?  Are  you  blind? 
See  you  not  that  it  is  a  stronger  might  than  the  Birch- 
legs  that  stands  at  Hakon's  back,  and  furthers  all  his 
life-work  ?  He  has  help  from  above,  from— from  those 
that  are  against  you— from  those  that  have  been  your 
enemies,  even  from  your  birth!  And  will  you  bow  be- 
fore these  your  enemies?  Rouse  you,  man;  straighten 
your  back!  To  what  end  got  you  your  masterful  soul  ? 
Bethink  you  that  the  first  great  deed  in  all  the  world 
was  done  by  one  who  rose  against  a  mighty  realm ! 

Earl  Skule. 
Who? 


208  THE  PRETENDERS  [act  ir 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
The  angel  who  rose  against  the  light! 

Earl  Skule. 
And  Was  hurled  into  the  bottomless  pit 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

[Wildly.]     And  founded  there  a  kingdom,  and  made 
.    himself  a   king,  a  mighty  king — mightier  than   any   of 
the  ten  thousand — earls  up  yonder! 

[Sinks  down  upon  a  bench  beside  the  table. 

Earl  Skule. 

[Looks  long  at  him.]  Bishop  Nicholas,  are  you  some- 
thing more  or  something  less  than  a  man  ? 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

[Smiling.]  I  am  in  the  state  of  innocence:  I  know 
not  good  from  evil. 

Earl  Skule. 

[Half  to  himself.]  Why  did  they  send  me  into  the 
world,  if  they  meant  not  to  order  it  better  for  me?  Ha- 
kon  has  so  firm  and  unswerving  a  faith  in  himself — 
all  his  men  have  so  firm  and  unswerving  a  faith  in 
him 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

Let  it  not  be  seen  that  you  have  no  such  faith  in 
yourself!  Speak  as  though  you  had  it,  swear  great 
oaths  that  you  have  it — and  all  will  believe  you. 


act  ii]  THE   PRETENDERS  209 

Earl  Skule. 

Had  I  a  son!     Had  I  but  a  son,  to  take  all  the  great 
heritage  after  me! 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
[Eagerly.]     Earl — if  you    had   a  son  ? 

Earl  Skule 
I  have  none. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

Hakon  will  have  sons. 

Earl  Skule. 
[Wringing  his  hands.]     And  is  king-born! 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
[Rising.]     Earl — if  he  were  not  so? 

Earl  Skule. 
Has  he  not  proved  it  ?     The  ordeal 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
And  if  he  were  not — in  spite  of  the  ordeal  ? 

Earl  Skule. 
Do  you  say  that  God  lied  in  the  issue  of  the  ordeal  ? 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

What  was  it   Inga  of  Varteig  called    upon   God   to 

witness  ? 


210  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  n 

Earl  Skule. 

That  the  child  she  bore  in  the  eastland,  in  Borgasys- 
sel,  was  the  son  of  Hakon  Sverresson. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

[Nods,  looks  round,  and  says  softly.]  And  if  King 
Hakon  were  not  that  child  ? 

Earl  Skule. 

[Starts  a  step  backivards.]     Great  God !     [Controls 

himself.]     It  is  beyond  belief. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

Hearken  to  me,  Earl  Skule.  I  have  lived  seventy 
years  and  six;  it  begins  to  go  'sharply  downhill  with 
me  now,  and  I  dare  not  take  this  secret  with  me  over 
yonder 

Earl  Skule. 

Speak,  speak !     Is  he  not  the  son  of  Hakon  Sverresson  ? 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

Hear  me.  It  was  known  to  none  that  Inga  was 
with  child.  Hakon  Sverresson  was  lately  dead,  and 
doubtless  she  feared  Inge  Bardsson,  who  was  then 
king,  and  you,  and — well,  and  the  Baglers  '  too  mayhap. 
She  was  brought  to  bed  secretly  in  the  house  of  Trond 
the  Priest,  in  Heggen  parish,  and  after  nine  days  she 
departed  homewards;  but  the  child  remained  a  whole 
year  with  the  priest,  she  not  daring  to  look  to  it,  and 
none  knowing  that  it  breathed  save  Trond  and  his 
two  sons. 

1  See  note,  p.  161. 


act  ii]  THE   PRETENDERS  211 

Earl  Skule. 
Ay,  ay — and  then? 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

When  the  child  was  a  year  old,  it  could  scarce  be 
kept  hidden  longer.  So  Inga  made  the  matter  known 
to  Erlend  of  Huseby — an  old  Birchleg  of  Sverre's  days, 
as  vou  know. 


Earl  Skule. 


Well? 


Bishop  Nicholas. 

He  .and  other  chiefs  from  the  Uplands  took  the  child, 
bore  it  over  the  mountains  in  midwinter,  and  brought 
it  to  the  King,  who  was  then  at  Nidaros. 

Earl  Skule. 
And  yet  you  can  say  that ? 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

Needless  to  say,  'twas  a  dangerous  task  for  a  humble 
priest  to  rear  a  king's  child.  So  soon  as  the  child  was 
born,  he  laid  the  matter  before  one  of  his  superiors  in 
the  church,  and  prayed  for  his  counsel.  This  his  supe- 
rior bade  Trond  send  the  true  king's  son  with  secrecy 
to  a  place  of  safety,  and  give  Inga  another,  if  she  or 
the  Birchlcgs  should  afterwards  ask  for  her  child. 

Earl  Skule. 

[Indignantly.]  And  who  was  the  hound  that  gave 
that  counsel  ? 

Bishop  Nicholas.  / 

It  was  I. 


212  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  n 

Earl  Skule. 
You  ?     Ay,  you  have  ever  hated  the  race  of  Sverre. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

I  deemed  it  not  safe  for  the  King's  son  to  fall  into 
your  hands. 

Earl  Skule. 
But  the  priest ? 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
Promised  to  do  as  I  bade. 

Earl  Skule. 

[Seizing  him  by  the  arm.]  And  Hakon  is  the  other 
child  ? 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

If  the  priest  kept  his  promise. 

Earl  Skule. 
I  f   he  kept  it  ? 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

Trond  the  Priest  departed  the  land  the  same  winter 
that  the  child  was  brought  to  King  Inge.  He  journeyed 
to  Thomas  Becket's  grave,  and  afterwards  abodefin 
England  till  his  death. 

Earl  Skule. 

He  departed  the  land,  say  you?  Then  must  he  have 
changed  the  children  and  dreaded  the  vengeance  of  the 
Birchlegs. 


act  ii]  THE   PRETENDERS  213 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

Or  he  did    not    change  the  children,  and  dreaded 
m  y  vengeance. 

Earl  Skule. 
Which  surmise  hold  you  for  the  truth  ? 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
Either  may  well  be  true. 

Earl  Skule. 
But  the  priest's  sons  of  whom  you  spoke  ? 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
They  went  with  the  crusaders  to  the  Holy  Land. 

Earl  Skule. 
And  there  have  since  been  no  tidings  of  them  ? 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
Ay,  tidings  there  have  been. 

Earl  Skule. 
Where  are  they  ? 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

They  were  drowned  in  the  Greek  Sea  on  the  journey 
forth. 

Earl  Skule. 
And  Inga ? 


214  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  ii 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

Knows  nought,  either  of  the  priest's  confession  or  of 
my  counsel. 

Earl  Skule. 

Her  child  was  but  nine  days  old  when  she  left  it,  you 
said  ? 


Bishop  Nicholas. 
Ay,  and  the  child  she  next  saw  was  over  a  year 

Earl  Skule. 

Then  no  living  creature  can  here  bring  light!  [Paces 
rapidly  to  and  fro.]  Almighty  God,  can  this  be  true? 
Hakon — the  King — he  who  holds  sway  over  all  this 
land,  not  born  of  royal  blood! — And  why  should  it  not 
be  like  enough  ?  Has  not  all  fortune  miraculously  fol- 
lowed him  ? — Why  not  this  also,  to  be  taken  as  a  child 
from  a  poor  cottar's  hut  and  laid  in  a  king's  cradle ? 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

Whilst  the  whole  people  believes  that  he  is  the  king's 
son 

Earl  Skule. 

Whilst  he  himself  believes  it,  Bishop — t  h  a  t  is 
the  heart  of  his  fortune,  that  is  the  girdle  of  strength! 
[Goes  to  the  window.]  See  how  bravely  he  sits  his  horse! 
/  None  rides  as  he  does.  His  eyes  are  filled  with  laughing, 
dancing  Sunshine;  he  looks  forth  into  the  day  as  though 
he  knew  himself  created  to  go  forward,  ever  forward. 
[Turns  towards  the  Bishop.]  I  am  a  king's  arm,  may- 
hap a  king's  brain  as  well;    but  he  is  the  whole  King. 


act  ii]  THE   JJtETENDERS  215 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
Yet  no  king  after  all,  mayhap. 

Earl  Skule. 
Mayhap  no  king  after  all. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

[Lays  his  hand  on  tlie  EarVs  shoulder.]  Hearken  to 
me,  Earl  Skule 

Earl  Skule. 

[Still  looking  out.]  There  sits  the  Queen.  Hakon 
speaks  gently  to  her;  she  turns  red  and  white  with  joy. 
He  took  her  to  wife  because  it  was  wise  to  choose  the 
daughter  of  the  mightiest  man  in  the  land.  There  was 
then  no  thought  of  love  for  her  in  his  heart; — but  it 
will  come;    Hakon  has  fortune  with  him.     She  will  shed 

light  over  his  life [Stops,  and  cries  out  in  wonder.] 

What  is   this? 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
What? 

Earl  Skule. 

Dagfinn  the  Peasant  bursts  violently  through  the 
crowd.     Now  he  is  giving  the  King  some  tidings. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

[Looking  out  from  behind  the  Earl.]  Hakon  seems 
angered — does  he  not?     He  clenches  his  fist 

Earl  Skule. 
He  looks  hitherward— what  can  it  be?     [About  to  go. 


216  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  ii 

Bishop  Nicholas, 

[Holding  him  back.]     Hearken  to  me,  Earl  Skule — 
there  may  yet  be  one  means  of  winning  assurance  as 
I  to  Hakon's  right. 

Earl  Skule. 
One  means,  you  say  ? 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

<      Trond  the  Priest  ere  he  died,  wrote  a  letter  telling  his 
whole  tale,  and  took  the  sacrament  in  witness  of  its  truth. 

Earl  Skule. 
And  that  letter — for  God's  pity's  sake — where  is  it? 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

You  must  know  that [Looks  towards  the  door.] 

Hush! — here  comes  the  King. 

Earl  Skule. 
The  letter,  Bishop — the  letter! 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

The  King  is  here. 
[HAkon  enters,  followed  by  his  Guard  and  many  guests. 
Immediately  afterwards,  Margrete  appears;  she 
seems  anxious  and  alarmed,  and  is  about  to  rush  up 
to  the  King,  when  she  is  restrained  by  Lady  Ragn- 
hild,  who,  with  other  ladies,  has  followed  her. 
Sigrid  stands  somewhat  apart,  towards  the  back. 
The  Earl's  men  appear  uneasy,  and  gather  in  a 
group  on  the  right,  where  Skule  is  standing,  but 
some  way  behind  him. 


act  ii]  THE   PRETENDERS  217 

HAkon. 

[In  strong  but  repressed  excitement.]  Earl  Skule,  who 
is  king  in  this  land  ? 

Earl  Skule. 
Who  is  king?  • 

HAkon. 

That  was  my  question.  I  bear  the  kingly  title,  but 
who  holds  the  kingly  might? 

Earl  Skule. 

The  kingly  might  should  dwell  with  him  who  has 
the  kingly  right. 

Hakon. 
So  should  it  be;    but  is  it  so? 

Earl  Skule. 
Do  you  summon  me  to  judgment? 

HAkon. 

That  I  do;  for  that  right  I  have  toward  every  man 
in  the  land. 

Earl  Skule. 
I  fear  not  to  answer  for  my  dealings. 

HAkon. 

Well  for  us  all  if  you  can.  [Mounts  a  step  of  throne- 
dais,  and  leans  upon  one  arm  of  the  throne.]  Here  stand 
I  as  your  king,  and  ask:  Know  you  that  Jon,  Earl  of 
Orkney,  has  risen  against  me  ? 


218  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  n 

Earl  Skule. 
Yes. 

HAkon. 

That  he  denies  to  pay  me  tribute? 

Earl  Skule. 
Yes. 

HIkon. 

And  is  it  true  that  you,  Sir  Earl,  have  this  day  sent 
him  a  letter? 

Earl  Skule. 
Who  says  so  ? 

Ivar  Bodde. 
That  do  I. 

Dagfinn. 

Jostein  Tamb  dared  not  deny  to  carry  it,  since  it  bore 
the  King's  seal. 

HIkon. 

You  write  to  the  King's  foes  under  the  King's  seal, 
although  the  King  knows  nought  of  what  is  written  ? 

Earl  Skule. 
So  have  I  done  for  many  a  year,  with  your  good  will. 

Hakon. 
Ay,  in  the  days  of  your  regency. 

Earl  Skule. 

Never  have  you  had  aught  but  good  thereby.     Earl 
Jon  wrote  to  me  praying  that  I  would  mediate  on  his 


act  ii]  THE   PRETENDERS  219 

behalf;  he  offered  peace,  but  on  terms  dishonourable  to 
the  King.  The  war  in  Vermeland  has  weighed  much 
upon  your  mind;  had  this  matter  been  left  to  you,  Earl 
Jon  had  come  too  lightly  off.     I  can  deal  better  with  him. 

Hakon. 
'Twas  our  will  to  deal  with  him  ourself.— And  what 
answer  made  you  ? 

Earl  Skule. 
Read  my  letter. 

Hakon. 
Give  it  me! 

Earl  Skule. 
I  deemed  you  had  it. 

Dagfinn. 
Nay,  you  know  better  than  that.     Gregorius  Jonsson 
was  too  swift  of  foot;    when  we  came  on  board,  the 
letter  was  gone. 

Earl  Skule. 
[Turns  to  Gregorius  Jonsson.]     Sir  Baron,  give  the 
King  the  letter. 

Gregorius  Jonsson. 
[Coming  close  to  him,  uneasily]     Hearken,  Earl ! 

Earl  Skule. 
What  now  ? 

Gregorius  Jonsson. 
[Softly.]     Bethink  you,  there  were  sharp  words  in  it 
concerning  the  King. 


220  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  n 

Earl  Skule. 
My  words  I  shall  answer  for.     The  letter! 

Gregorius  Jonsson. 
I  have  it  not. 

Earl  Skule. 
You  have  it  not  ? 

Gregorius  Jonsson. 

Dagfinn  the  Peasant  was  at  our  heels.     I  snatched 
the  letter  from  Jostein  Tamb,  tied  a  stone  to  it 

Earl  Skule. 
Well? 

Gregorius  Jonsson. 
It  lies  at  the  bottom  of  the  fiord. 

Earl  Skule. 
y/  You  have  done  ill — ill. 

HAkon. 
I  await  the  letter,  Sir  Earl. 

Earl  Skule. 
I  cannot  give  it  you. 

HAkon. 
You   cannot  ! 

Earl  Skule. 

[Advancing  a  step  towards  the  King.]     My  pride  brooks 
not  to  be  put  to  shifts,  as  you  and  your  men  would  call 
7     it 


act  ii]  THE   PRETENDERS  221 

HAkon. 

[Controlling  his  rising  wrath.]     And  so ? 

Earl  Skule. 
in  one  word — I    will    not  give  it  you ! 

HAkon. 
Then  you  defy  me? 

Earl  Skule. 
Since  so  it  must  be — yes,  I  defy  you. 

Ivar  Bodde. 

[Forcibly.]     Now,  my  lord  King,  I  scarce  think  you    * 
or  any  man  can  how  need  further  proof! 

Dag  finn. 
Nay,  now  I  think  we  know  the  Earl's  mind. 

HAkon. 

[Coldly,  to  tlie  Earl.]  You  will  hand  the  Great  Seal 
to  Ivar  Bodde. 

Margrete. 

[Rustics  with  clasped  hands  towards  the  dais,  where 
ilie  King  is  standing.]  Hakon  be  a  kind  and  gracious 
nusband  to  me! 

\     [HAkon  makes  an  imperative  gesture  towards  her; 
\       she  hides  her  face  in  her  veil,  and  goes  up  towards 
\     her  mother  again. 

Earl  Skule. 
[To  Ivar  Bodde.]     Here  is  the  Great  Seal. 


222  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  n 

IVAR    BODDE. 

This  was  to  be  the  last  evening  of  the  feast.  It  has 
ended  in  a  heavy  sorrow  for  the  King;  but  sooner  or 
later  it  needs  must  come,  and  methinks  every  true  man 
must  rejoice  that  it   has   come. 

Earl  Skule. 

And  I  think  every  true  man  must  feel  bitter  wrath 
to  see  a  priest  thus  make  mischief  between  us  Birchlegs; 
— ay,  Birchlegs,  I  say;  for  I  am  every  whit  as  good  a 
Birchleg  as  the  King  or  any  of  his  men.  I  am  of  the 
same  stock,  the  stock  of  Sverre,  the  kingly  stock — but 
you,  Priest,  you  have  built  up  a  wall  of  distrust  around 
the  King,  and  shut  me  out  from  him;  that  has  been 
your  task  this  many  a  year. 

Paul  Flida. 

[Enraged,  to  the  bystanders.]  Earl's  men!  Shall  we 
abide  this  longer  ? 

Gregorius  Jonsson. 

[Steps  forward.]  No,  we  can  and  will  no  more  abide 
it.  'Tis  time  to  say  it  plainly — none  of  the  Earl's  men 
can  serve  the  King  in  full  trust  and  love,  so  long  as  Ivar 
Bodde  comes  and  goes  in  the  palace,  and  makes  bad 
blood  between  us. 

Paul  Flida. 

Priest!  I  bid  you  look  to  life  and  limb,  wheresoever 
I  meet  you — in  the  field,  on  shipboard,  or  in  any  un- 
consecrated  house. 

Many  Earl's  Men. 
I  too!    I  too!     You  are  an  outlaw  to  us! 


act  ii]  THE   PRETENDERS  223 

IVAR    BODDE. 

God  forbid  that  I  should  stand  between  the  King 
and  so  many  mighty  chieftains. — Hakon,  my  gracious 
lord,  my  soul  bears  me  witness  that  I  have  served  you 
in  all  faithfulness.  True,  I  have  warned  you  against 
the  Earl;  but  if  I  have  ever  done  him  wrong,  I  pray 
God  forgive  me.  Now  have  I  no  more  to  do  in  the 
palace;  here  is  your  Seal;  take  it  into  your  own  hands; 
there  it  should  have  rested  long  ago. 

Hakon. 

[Who  lias  come  down  from  the  dais.]  You  shall 
remain ! 

Ivar  Bodde. 

I  cannot.  If  I  did,  my  conscience  would  gnaw  and 
rend  me  night  and  day.  Greater  evil  can  no  man  do  in 
these  times  than  to  hold  the  King  and  the  Earl  asunder. 

HAkon. 
Ivar  Bodde,  I  command  you  to  remain! 

Ivar  Bodde. 

If  the  Holy  King  Olaf  should  rise  from  his  silver 
shrine  to  bid  me  stay,  still  I  needs  must  go.  [Places 
the  Seal  in  the  Kino's  liand.]  Farewell,  my  noble 
master!     God  bless  and  prosper  you  in  all  your  work! 

[Goes  out  through  t)ie  crowd,  to  the  right. 

HAkon. 

[Gloomily,  to  the  Earl  and  his  men.]  There  have  I 
lost  a  trusty  friend  for  your  sakes;  what  requital  can 
you  offer  to  make  good  that  loss  ? 


It     A: 


224  THE  PRETENDERS  [act  ii 

Earl  Skule. 
I  offer  myself  and  all  my  friends. 

HAkon. 

I  almost  fear  'twill  not  suffice.  Now  must  I  gather 
round  me.  all  the  men  I  can  fully  trust.  Dagfinn  the 
Peasant,  let  a  messenger  set  out  forthwith  for  Haloga- 
land;    Vegard  Vaeradal  must  be  recalled. 

Dagfinn. 

[Who  has  been  standing  somewhat  towards  the  back, 
in  conversation  with  a  man  in  travelling  dress  who  has 
entered  the  hall,  approaches  and  says  with  emotion:] 
Vegard  cannot  come,  my  lord. 

HAkon. 

How  know  you  that  ? 

Dagfinn. 
I  have  even  now  had  tidings  of  him. 

HAkon. 
What  tidings? 

Dagfinn. 

That  Vegard  Vaeradal  is  slain. 

Many  Voices. 
Slain ! 

HAkon. 
Who  slew  him  ? 


act  ii]  THE  PRETENDERS  225 

Dagfinn. 

Andres  Skialdarband,  the  Earl's  friend. 
[A  short  pause;  uneasy  whispers  pass  among  tlie  men. 

HAkon. 
Where  is  the  messenger? 

Dagfinn. 

[Leading  the  man  forward.]     Here,  my  lord  King. 

HAkon. 

What  caused  the  slaying? 

The  Messenger. 

That  no  man  knows.  The  talk  fell  upon  the  Finnish 
tribute,  and  on  a  sudden  Andres  sprang  up  and  gave 
him  his  death- wound. 

HAkon. 

Had  there  been  quarrels  between  them  before? 

The  Messenger. 

Ever  and  anon.  Andres  would  often  say  that  a  wise 
councillor  herein  the  south  had  written  to  him  that  he 
should  be  as  rock  and  flint  toward  Vegard  Vseradal. 

Dagfinn. 

Strange!  Ere  Vegard  set  forth  he  told  me  that  a 
wise  councillor  had  said  h  e  should  be  as  rock  and 
flint  toward  Andres  Skialdarband. 


226  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  n 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
[Spitting.]     Shame  upon  such  councillors. 

HAkon. 

We  will  not  question  more  closely  from  what  root  this 
wrong  has  grown.  Two  faithful  souls  have  I  lost  this 
day.  I  could  weep  for  Vegard,  but  'tis  no  time  for 
weeping;  it  must  be  life  for  life.  Sir  Earl,  Andres 
Skialdarband  is  your  sworn  retainer;  you  offered  me 
all  service  in  requital  for  Ivar  Bodde.  I  take  you  at 
your  word,  and  look  to  you  to  see  that  this  misdeed  be 
avenged. 

Earl  Skule. 

Of  a  truth,  bad  angels  are  at  work  between  us  to-day. 
On  any  other  of  my  men,  I  would  have  suffered  you  to 
avenge  the  murder 

Hakon. 

[Expectantly.]     Well  ? 

Earl  Skule. 
But  not  on  Andres  Skialdarband. 

Hakon. 

[Flashing  out.]     Will  you  shield  the  murderer? 

Earl  Skule. 
This   murderer  I   must   shield. 

HAkon. 

J    And  the  reason  ? 


act  ii]  THE   PRETENDERS  227 

Earl  Skule. 
That  none  but  God  in  heaven  may  know.        / 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
[Softly,  to  Dagfinn.]     I  know  it. 

Dagfinn. 
And  I  suspect  it. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
Say  nought,  good  Dagfinn! 

HAkon. 

Earl,  I  will  believe  as  long  as  I  may,  that  you  mean 
not  in  good  sooth  what  you  have  said  to  me 

Earl  Skule. 

Were   it   my   own   father   Andres   Skialdarband   had 
slain,  he  should  still  go  free.     Ask  me  no  more. 

HAkon. 

Good.     Then  we  ourselves    must  do  justice  in  the 
matter! 

Earl  Skule. 

[With  an  expression  of  alarm.]     There  will  be  blood- 
shed on  both  sides,  my  lord  King! 

HAkon. 
So  be  it;    none  the  less  shall  the  deed  be  avenged. 


228  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  ii 

Earl  Skule. 
It  shall    not   be! — It   cannot   be! 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
Nay,  there  the  Earl  is  right. 

Hakon. 

Say  you  so,  my  honoured  lord  ? 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
Andres  Skialdarband  has  taken  the  Cross. 

HAkon  and  Earl  Skule. 
Taken  the  Cross! 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
And  has  already  sailed  from  the  land. 

Earl  Skule. 
'Tis  well  for  all  of  us! 

Hakon. 

The  day.  wanes;  the  bridal-feast  must  now  be  at-^h 
end.  I  thank  you,  Sir  Earl,  for  all  the  honour  that  has 
been  shown  me  in  these  days. — You  are  bound  for 
Nidaros,  as  I  think? 

Earl  Skule. 
That  is  my  intent. 


act  ii]  THE  PRETENDERS  229 

HAkon. 

And  I  for  Viken. — If  you,  Margrete,  choose  rather  to 
abide  in  Bergen,  then  do  so. 

Margrete. 
Whither  you  go,  I  go,  until  you  forbid. 

HAkon. 

Good;  then  come  with  me. 

Sigrid. 

Now  is  our  kindred  spread  far  abroad.  [Kneels  to 
HAkon.]     Grant  me  a  grace,  my  lord  King. 

HAkon. 
Rise,  Lady  Sigrid;  whatever  you  crave  shall  be  granted. 

Sigrid. 

I  cannot  go  with  the  Earl  to  Nidaros.  The  nunnery 
at  Rein  will  soon  be  consecrated;  write  to  the  Arch- 
bishop— take  order  that  I  be  made  Abbess. 

Earl  Skule. 
You,  my  sister? 

HAkon. 
You  will  enter  a  nunnery! 

Sigrid. 

[Rising.]  Since  my  wedding-night  of  blood,  when  the 
Baglers  came   and   hewed  down   my   bridegroom,  and 


230  THE  PRETENDERS  [act  it 

many  hundreds  with  him,  and  fired  Nidaros  town  at  all  its 
corners — since  then,  it  has  been  as  though  the  blood  and 
flames  had  dulled  and  deadened  my  sight  for  the  world 
around  me.  But  power  was  given  me  to  catch  glimpses 
of  that  which  other  eyes  see  not — and  one  thing  I  see 
now :  a  time  of  great  dread  hanging  over  this  land ! 

Earl  Skule. 
[Vehemently.]     She  is  sick!     Heed  her  not! 


Sigrid. 

A  plenteous  harvest  is  ripening  for  him  that  reaps  in 
the  darkness.  Every  woman  in  Norway  will  have  but 
one  task  now — to  kneel  in  church  and  cloister,  and  pray 
both  day  and  night. 

HAkon. 

[Shaken.]  Is  it  prophecy  or  soul-sickness  that  speaks 
thus? 

Sigrid. 
Farewell,  my  brother — we  shall  meet  once  more. 

Earl  Skule. 
[Involuntarily.]     When  ? 

Sigrid. 

[Softly.]  When  you  take  the  crown;  in  the  hour  of 
danger, — when  you  are  fain  of  me  in  your  direst  need. 

[Goes  out  to  the  right,  with  Margrete,  Lady  Ragn- 
iiild,  and  the  women. 


act  ii]  THE   PRETENDERS  231 

HAkon. 

[After  a  short  pause,  draws  Ju's  sword,  and  says  with 
quiet  determination:]  All  the  Earl's  men  shall  take  the 
oath  of  fealty. 

Earl  Skule. 

[Veliemently.]  Is  this  your  settled  purpose  ?  [Almost 
imploringly.]     King  Hakon,  do  not  so! 

HIkon. 

No  Earl's  man  shall  leave  Bergen  ere  he  has  sworn 
fealty  to  the  King. 

[Goes  out  with  his  Guard.     All  except  the  Earl  and 
tfie  Bishop  follow  him. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
He  has  dealt  hardly  with  you  to-day! 

[Earl  Skule  is  silent,  and  looks  out  after  tlte  King, 
as  tfwugh  struck  dumb. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
[More  loudly.]     And  mayhap  not  king-born  after  all. 

Earl  Skule. 

[Turns  suddenly,  in  strong  excitement,  and  seizes  the 
Bishop  by  the  arm.]  Trond  the  Priest's  confession — 
where  is  it? 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

He  sent  it  to  me  from  England  ere  he  died;  I  know  not 
by  whom — and  it  never  reached  me. 


232  THE  PRETENDERS  [act  n 

Earl  Skule. 
But  it  must  be  found! 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
j     I  doubt  not  but  it  may. 

Earl  Skule. 
And  if  you  find  it,  you  will  give  it  into  my  hands  ? 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
That  I  promise. 

Earl  Skule. 

You  swear  it  by  your  soul's  salvation  ? 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
I  swear  it  by  my  soul's  salvation! 

Earl  Skule. 

Good;  till  that  time  I  will  work  against  Hakon,  wher- 
ever it  can  be  done  secretly  and  unnoted.  He  must  be 
hindered  from  growing  mightier  than  I,  ere  the  struggle 
begins. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

But  should  it  prove  that  he  is  in  truth  king-born — what 
then? 

Earl  Skule. 

Then  I  must  try  to  pray — to  pray  for  humbleness,  that 
I  may  serve  him  with  all  my  might,  as  a  faithful  chieftain. 


act  ii]  THE   PRETENDERS  233 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
And  if  he  be  not  the  rightful  king  ? 

Earl  Skule. 

Then  shall  he  give  place  to  me!  The  kingly  title  and 
the  kingly  throne,  host  and  guard,  fleet  and  tribute,  towns 
and  strongholds,  all  shall  be  mine! 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
He  will  betake  him  to  Viken 

Earl  Skule. 
I  will  drive  him  out  of  Viken! 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
He  will  establish  himself  in  Nidaros. 

Earl  Skule 
I  will  storm  Nidaros! 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
He  will  shut  himself  up  in  Olaf's  holy  church 

Earl  Skule. 
I  will  force  the  sanctuary 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

He  will   fly  to  the  high  altar,  and    cling  to  Olaf's 
shrine 


1 


234  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  n 

Earl  Skule. 

I  will  drag  him  down  from  the  altar,  though  I  drag  the 
shrine  along  with  him 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
But  the  crown  will  still  be  on  his  head,  Earl  Skule! 

Earl  Skule. 
I  will  strike  off  the  crown  with  my  sword! 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
But  if  it  sits  too  tight ? 

Earl  Skule. 

Then,   in   God's   name  or  Satan's — I  will   strike  off 
the  head  along  with  it!  [Goes  out  to  the  right. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

[Looks  out  after  him,  nods  slowly,  and  says:]     Ay — ay 
— 'tis  in  this  mood  I  like  the  Earl! 


ACT  THIRD 

A  room  in  the  Bishop's  Palace  at  Oslo.1  On  tlie  right 
is  the  entrance  door.  In  the  back,  a  small  door, 
standing  open,  leads  into  the  Chapel,  which  is 
liglded  up.  A  curtained  door  in  the  left  wall  leads 
into  tlie  Bi-sJwp's  sleeping-room.  In  front,  on  the 
same  side,  stands  a  cushioned  couch.  Opposite, 
on  the  right,  is  a  writing-table,  with  letters,  docu- 
ments, and  a  UgJited  lamp. 

At  first  tlie  room  is  empty;  behind  the  curtain  on  the 
left,  the  singing  of  monks  is  heard.  Presently 
Paul  Flida,  in  travelling  dress,  enters  from  tlie 
right,  stops  by  tlie  door,  waits,  looks  around,  and 
then  knocks  three  times  with  his  staff  upon  the 
fioor. 

SlRA   VlLIAM. 

[Comes  out  from  the  left,  and  exclaims  in  a  hushed 
voice.]  Paul  Flida!  God  be  praised ;— then  the  Earl 
is  not  far  off. 

Paul  Flida. 

The  ships  are  already  at  Hoved-isle;  I  came  on  ahead. 
And  how  goes  it  with  the  Bishop  ? 

Sira  Viliam. 

He  is  even  now  receiving  the  Extreme  Unction. 
1  An  ancient  city  close  to  the  present  Christiania. 
235 


236  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  hi 

Paul  Flida. 
Then  there  is  great  danger. 

Sira  Viliam. 

Master  Sigard  of  Brabant  has  said  that  he  cannot 
outlive  the  night.  . 

Paul  Flida. 

Then  meseems  he  has  summoned  us  too  late. 

Sira  Viliam. 

Nay,  nay, — he  has  his  full  senses  and  some  strength  to 
boot;  every  moment  he  asks  if  the  Earl  comes  not  soon. 

Paul  Flida. 

You   still   call   him   Earl;   know  you   not  that  the 
King  has  granted  him  the  title  of  Duke? 

Sira  Viliam. 

Ay,  ay,  we  know  it;  'tis  but  old  custom.  Hist! 
[He  and  Paul  Flida  cross  tliemselves  and  bow  their 
heads.  From  the  Bishop's  door  issue  two  acolytes 
with  candles,  then  two  more  with  censers;  tJien 
priests  bearing  chalice,  paten,  and  crucifix,  and 
a  church  banner;  behind  tfiem  a  file  of  priests  and 
monks;  acolytes  with  candles  and  censers  close  tlie 
procession,  which  passes  slowly  into  the  chapel. 
The  door  is  shut  behind  them. 

Paul  Flida. 

So   now  the  old  lord  has  made  up  his  account  with 
the  world. 


act  in]  THE   PRETENDERS  237 

SlRA    VlLIAM. 

I  can  tell  him  that  Duke  Skule  comes  so  soon  as  may 
be? 

Paul  Flida. 

He  comes  straight  from  the  wharf  up  here  to  the 

Palace.     Farewell !  [Goes. 

[Several   priests,    among    them    Peter,    with    some 

of  the  Bishop's  servants,  come  out  from  the  left 

with  rugs,  cushions,  and  a  large  brazier. 

Sira  Viliam. 
Why  do  you  this  ? 

A  Priest. 

[Arranging  the  couch.]    The  Bishop  wills  to  lie  out 
here. 

Sira  Viliam. 
But  is  it  prudent? 

The  Priest. 
Master  Sigard  thinks  we  may  humour  him.    Here  he  is. 
Bishop  Nicholas  enters,  supported  by  Master  Sigard 
and  a  priest.     He  is  in  his  canonicals,  but  without 
crozier  and  mitre. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
Light  more  candles.  [He  is  led  to  a  seat  upon  the 
couch,  near  tlie  brazier,  and  is  covered  with  rugs.]  Viliam ! 
Now  have  I  been  granted  forgiveness  for  all  my  sins! 
They  took  them  all  away  with  them ;— meseems  I  am 
so  light  now. 


238  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  hi 

SlRA    VlLIAM. 

The  Duke  sends  you  greeting,  my  lord ;  he  has  already 
passed  Hoved-isle! 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

'Tis  well,  very  well.  Belike  the  King,  too,  will  soon 
be  here.  I  have  been  a  sinful  hound  in  my  day,  Vil- 
iam;  I  have  grievously  trespassed  against  the  King. 
The  priests  in  there  averred  that  all  my  sins  should  be 
forgiven  me; — well  well,  it  may  be  so;  but  'tis  easy  for 
them  to  promise;  'tis  not  against  them  that  I  have 
trespassed.  No  no;  it  is  safest  to  have  it  from  the 
King's  own  mouth.  [Exclaims  impatiently.]  Light,  I 
say!    'tis  so  dark  in  here. 

Sira  Viliam. 
The  candles  are  lighted 

Master  Sigard. 

[Stops  him  by  a  sign,  and  approaches  the  Bishop.] 
How  goes  it  with  you,  my  lord  ? 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
So-so — so-so;    my  hands  and  feet  are  cold. 

Master  Sigaru. 

[Half  aloud,  as  he  moves  the  brazier  nearer.]  Ha — 
'tis  the  beginning  of  the  end. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

[Apprehensively,  to  Viliam.]  I  have  commanded  that 
eight  monks  shall  chant  and  pray  for  me  in  the  chapel 


act  in]  THE   PRETENDERS  239 

to-night.     Have  an  eye  to  them;    there  are  idle  fellows 
among  them. 

[Sir a    Viliam    points    silently   towards   tlie   cliapel, 

whence  singing  is  heard,  which  continues  during 

what  follows. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

So   much   still   undone,   and   to  go  and   leave   it  all! 
So  much  undone,  Viliam! 


Sira  Viliam. 
My  lord,  think  of  heavenly  things! 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

I  have  time  before  me; — till  well  on  in  the  morning, 
Master  Sigard  thinks 

Sira  Viliam. 
My  lord,  my  lord! 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

Give  me  mitre  and  crozier! — 'Tis  very  well  for  you 

to  say  that  I  should  think [A  priest  brings  them.] 

So.  set  the  <ap  there,  'tis  too  heavy  for  me;   give  me  the 
crozier  in   my  hand;    there,   now  am  I  in  my  armour. 

A  bishop ! The  Evil  One  dare  not  grapple  with  me 

now! 

Sira  Viliam. 
Desire  you  aught  beside? 


240  THE  PRETENDERS  [act  hi 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

No.  Stay — tell  me: — Peter,  Andres  Skialdarband's 
son, — all  speak  well  of  him 

Sira  Viliam. 
In  truth,  his  is  a  blameless  soul. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

Peter,  you  shall  watch  beside  me  until  the  King  or 
the  Duke  shall  come.  Leave  us,  meanwhile,  ye  others, 
but  be  at  hand.      [All  except  Peter  go  out  on  the  right. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
[After  a  short  pause.]     Peter! 

Peter. 
[Approaches.]     My  lord  ? 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
Hast  ever  seen  old  men  die? 

Peter. 
No. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

They  are  all  afeard;  that  I  dare  swear.  There  on 
the  table  lies  a  large  letter  with  seals  to  it;  give  it  to  me. 
[Peter  brings  tlie  letter.]     'Tis  to  your  mother. 

Peter. 
To  my  mother? 


act  in]  THE  PRETENDERS  241 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

You  must  get  you  northward  with  it  to  Halogaland. 
I  have  written  to  her  touching  a  great  and  weighty 
matter;   tidings  have  come  from  your  father. 

Peter. 

^  He  is  fighting  as  a  soldier  of  God  in  the  Holy  Land. 
Should  he  fall  there,  he  falls  on  hallowed  ground;  for 
there  every  foot's- breadth  of  earth  is  sacred.  I  com- 
mend him  to  God  in  all  my  prayers. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
Is  Andres  Skialdarband  dear  to  you  ? 

Peter. 

He  is  an  honourable  man;  but  there  lives  another  man 
whose  greatness  my  mother,  as  it  were,  fostered  and 
nourished  me  withal. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
[Hurriedly  and  eagerly.]     Is  that  Duke  Skule  ? 

Peter. 

Ay,  the  Duke— Skule  Bardsson.  My  mother  knew  him 
in  younger  days.  The  Duke  must  sure  be  the  great- 
est man  in  the  land! 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

There  is  the  letter;  get  you  northward  with  it  forth- 
with!— Are  they  not  singing  in  there? 


242  THE  PRETENDERS  [act  hi 

Peter. 
They  are,  my  lord! 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

Eight  lusty  fellows  with  throats  like  trumpets,  they 
must  surely  help  somewhat,  methinks. 

Peter. 
My  lord,  my  lord!     Why  not  pray  yourself? 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

I  have  too  much  still  undone,  Peter.  Life  is  all  too 
short; — besides,  the  King  will  surely  forgive  me  when  he 

comes [Gives  a  start  in  pain. 

-\ 

Peter. 
You  are  suffering? 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

I  suffer  not;  but  there  is  a  ringing  in  mine  ears,  a 
twinkling  and  flickering  before  mine  eyes 

Peter. 

'Tis  the  heavenly  bells  ringing  you  home,  and  the 
twinkling  of  the  altar-lights  God's  angels  have  lit  for 
you. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

Ay,  sure  'tis  so; — there  is  no  danger  if  only  they  lag 

not  with  their  prayers  in  there Farewell;    set  forth 

at   once   with   the   letter. 


HE   PRETENDERS  2t3 

Peter. 


Bishop  Nicholas. 
Nay,  go;    I  fear  not  to  be  alone. 

Peter. 

Well  met  again,  then,  what  time  the  heavenly  bells 
shall  sound  for  me  too.  [Goes  out  on  tlie  right. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

The  heavenly  bells, — ay,  'tis  easy  talking  when  you 
still  have  two  stout  legs  to  stand  upon. — So  much  undone! 
But  much  will  live  after  me,  notwithstanding.  I  prom- 
ised the  Duke  by  my  soul's  salvation  to  give  him  Trond 
the  Priest's  confession  if  it  came  into  my  hand; — 'tis 
well  I  have  not  got  it.  Had  he  certainty,  he  would 
conquer  or  fall;  and  then  one  of  the  twain  would  be 
the  mightiest  man  that  ever  lived  in  Norway.  No  no, — 
what  /  could  not  reach  none  other  shall  reach.  Un- 
certainty serves  best;  so  long  as  the  Duke  is  burdened 
with  that,  they  two  will  waste  each  other's  strength, 
wheresoever  they  may;  towns  will  be  burnt,  dales 
will  be  harried, — neither  will  gain  by  the  other's  loss — 
[  Terrified.]  Mercy,  pity !  It  is  I  who  bear  the  guilt— I, 
who  set  it  all  agoing!  [Calming  himself.]  Well,  well, 
well!  but  now  the  King  is  coming— 'tis  he  that  suffers 
most — he  will  forgive  me — prayers  and  masses  shall 
be  said;  there  is  no  danger; — I  am  a  bishop,  and  I  have 
never  slain  any  man  with  mine  own  hand. — 'Tis  well 
that  Trond  the  Priest's  confession  came  not;  the  saints 
.ire  with  me,  they  will  not  tempt  me  to  break  my  promise. 
—Who   knocks  at  the  door?     It  must   be  the  Duke.' 


244  THE  PRETENDERS  {act  hi 

[Rubs  his  hands  with  glee.]  He  will  implore  me  for 
proofs  as  to  the  kinship, — and  I  have  no  proofs  to  give 
him! 

Inga  of  Varteig  enters;   she  is  dressed  in 
black,  with  a  cloak  and  hood. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
[Starts.]     Who  is  that  ? 

Inga. 

A  woman  from  Varteig  in  Borgasyssel,  my  honoured 
lord. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

The  King's  mother! 

Inga. 
So  was  I  called  once. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

Go,  go!     'Twas  not  I  counselled  Hakon  to  send  you 
away. 

Inga. 

What  the  King  does  is  well  done;   'tis  not  therefor  I 
come. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

Wherefore  then  ? 

Inga. 
Gunnulf,  my  brother,  is  come  home  from  England 


act  in]  THE   PRETENDERS  245 

Bishop  Nicholas.      m 
From  England ! 

Inga. 

He  has  been  away  these  many  years,  as  you  know, 
and  has  roamed  far  and  wide;  now  has  he  brought 
home  a  letter 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
[Breathlessly.]     A  letter ? 

Inga. 

From  Trond  the  Priest.     'Tis  for  you,  my  lord. 

[Hands  it  to  him. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
Ah,  truly; — and   you   bring  it  ? 

Inga. 

It  was  Trond's  wish.  I  owe  him  great  thanks  since 
the  time  he  fostered  Hakon.  It  was  told  me  that  you 
were  sick;  therefore  I  set  forth  at  once;  I  have  come 
hither  on  foot 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
There  was  no  such  haste,  Inga! 

Dag finn  the  Peasant  enters  from  the  right. 

Dagfinn. 
God's  peace,  my  honoured  lord! 


246  THE  PRETENDERS  [act  in 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
Comes  the  King  ? 

Dagfinn. 

He  is  now  riding  down  the  Ryen  hills,  with  the  Queen 
and  the  King-child  and  a  great  following. 

Inga. 

[Rushes    up    to    Dagfinn.]     The    King, — the    King! 
Comes   h  e   hither  ? 

Dagfinn. 
Inga!     You  here,  much-suffering  woman! 

Inga. 

She  is  not  much-suffering  who  has  so  great  a  son. 

Dagfinn. 
Now  will  his  hard  heart  be  melted. 

Inga. 

Not  a  word  to  the  King  of  me.     Yet,  oh,  I  must 
see  him ! — Tell  me, — comes  he  hither  ? 

Dagfinn. 
Ay,  presently. 

Inga. 

And  it  is  dark  evening.     The  King  will  be  lighted  on 
his  way  with  torches  ? 

Dagfinn. 

Yes. 


act  in]  THE   PRETENDERS  247 

Inga. 

Then  will  I  hide  rie  in  a  gateway  as  he  goes  by; — 
and  then  home  to  Varteig.  But  first  will  I  into  Hall- 
vard's  church;  the  lights  are  burning  there  to-night; 
there  will  I  call  down  blessings  on  the  King,  on  my  fair 
son.  [Goes  out  to  tlie  right. 

Dagfinn. 
I  have  fulfilled  mine  errand ;  I  go  to  meet  the  King. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
Bear  him  most  loving  greeting,  good  Dagfinn! 

Dagfinn. 

[As  he  goes  out  to  the  right.]  I  would  not  be  Bishop 
Nicholas  to-morrow. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

Trond  the  Priest's  confession !     So  it  has  come 

after  all — here  I  hold  it  in  my  hand.  [Muses  with  a  fixed 
gaze.]  A  man  should  never  promise  aught  by  his  soul's 
salvation,  when  he  is  as  old  as  I.  Had  I  years  before 
me,  I  could  always  wriggle  free  from  such  a  promise; 
but  this  evening,  this  last  evening — no,  that  were  im- 
prudent.— But  can  I  keep  it?  Is  it  not  to  endanger 
all  that  I  have  worked  for,  my  whole  life  through? — 
[Whispering.]  Oh,  could  I  but  cheat  the  Evil  One, 
only  this  one  more  time!  [Listens.]  What  was  that? 
[Calls.]     Viliam,  Viliam! 

Sira  Viliam  enters  from  the  right. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
What  is  it  that  whistles  and  howls  so  grimly? 


248  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  in 

SlRA   VlLIAM. 

'Tis  the  storm;   it  grows  fiercer. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

The  storm  grows  fiercer!     Ay  truly,  I  will  keep  my 

promise!     The  storm,  say  you ?     Are  they  singing 

in  there  ? 

SlRA   VlLIAM. 

Yes,  my  lord. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

Bid  them  bestir  themselves,  and  chiefly  brother 
Aslak;  he  always  makes  such  scant  prayers;  he  shirks 
whenever  he  can;  he  skips,  the  hound!  [Strikes  the 
floor  with  his  crozier.]  Go  in  and  say  to  him  'tis  the 
last  night  I  have  left;  he  shall  bestir  himself,  else  will  I 
haunt  him  from  the  dead! 

SlRA    VlLIAM. 

My  lord,  shall  I  not  fetch  Master  Sigard  ? 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

Go  in,  I  say!  [Viliam  goes  into  the  chapel.]  It  must 
doubtless  be  heaven's  will  that  I  should  reconcile  the 
King  and  the  Duke,  since  it  sends  me  Trond's  letter 
now.  This  is  a  hard  thing,  Nicholas;  to  tear  down  at  a 
single  wrench  what  you  have  spent  your  life  in  building 
up.  But  there  is  no  other  way;  I  must  e'en  do  the 
will  of  heaven  this  time. — If  I  could  only  read  what  is 
written  in  the  letter!  But  I  cannot  see  a  word!  Mists 
drive  before  my  eyes;  they  sparkle  and  flicker;  and  I 
dare  let  none  other  read  it  for  me!  To  make  such  a 
promise !     Is  human  cunning,  then,  so  poor  a  thing 


act  in]  THE   PRETENDERS  249 

that  it  cannot  govern  the  outcome  of  its  contrivances 
in  the  second  and  third  degree  ?  I  spoke  so  long  and  so 
earnestly  to  Vegard  Vaeradal  about  making  the  King 
send  Inga  from  him,  that  at  length  it  came  to  pass. 
That  was  wise  in  the  first  degree;  but  had  I  not  coun- 
selled thus,  then  Inga  had  not  now  been  at  Varteig,the 
letter  had  not  come  into  my  hands  in  time,  and  I  had 
not  had  any  promise  to  keep— therefore  'twas  unwise  in 

the  second  degree.     Had  I  yet  time  before  me !  but 

only  the  space  of  one  night,  and  scarce  even  that.  I 
must,  I  will  live  longer!  [Knocks  with  his  crozier;  a 
priest  enters  from  the  right)  Bid  Master  Sigard  come! 
[The  priest  goes;  the  Bishop  cruslies  tJie  letter  in  his 
hands.]  Here,  under  this  thin  seal,  lies  Norway's  saga 
for  a  hundred  years !  It  lies  and  dreams,  like  the  birdling 
in  the  egg!  Oh,  that  I  had  more  souls  than  one— or 
else  none!  [Presses  tJie  letter  wildly  to  his  breast.]  Oh, 
were  not  the  end  so  close  upon  me,— and  judgment  and 
doom— I  would  hatch  you  out  into  a  hawk  that  should 
cast  the  dreadful  shadow  of  his  wings  over  all  the  land, 
and  strike  his  sharp  talons  into  every  heart!  [With  a 
sudden  shudder.]  But  the  last  hour  is  at  hand !  [Shriek- 
ing.] No,  no!  You  shall  become  a  swan,  a  white  swan ! 
[  Throws  the  Utter  far  from  him,  on  to  the  floor,  and  calls:] 
Master  Sigard,  Master  Sigard! 

Master  Sigard. 
[From  tlie  right.]     How  goes  it,  honoured  lord! 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
Master  Sigard— sell  me  three  days'  life! 

Master  Sigard. 
I  have  told  you 


250  THE  PRETENDERS  [act  hi 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

Yes,  yes;  but  that  was  in  jest;  'twas  a  little  revenge 
on  me.  I  have  been  a  tedious  master  to  you;  therefore 
you  thought  to  scare  me.  Fie,  that  was  evil, — nay, 
nay — 'twas  no  more  than  I  deserved!  But,  now  be 
good  and  kind!  I  will  pay  you  well; — three  days'  life, 
Master  Sigard,  only  three  days'  life! 

Master  Sigard. 

Though  I  myself  were  to  die  in  the  same  hour  as  you, 
I    yet  could  I  not  add  three  days  to  your  span. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

One  day,  then,  only  one  day!  Let  it  be  light, 
'let  the  sun  shine  when  my  soul  sets  forth!  Listen, 
*  Sigard!  [Beckons  him  over,  and  drags  him  down  upon 
the  couch.]  I  have  given  well-nigh  all  my  gold  and 
silver  to  the  Church,  to  have  high  masses  sung  for  me. 
I  will  take  it  back  again;  you  shall  have  it  all!  How 
now,  Sigard,  shall  we  two  fool  them  in  there  ?  He-he-he! 
You  will  be  rich,  Sigard,  and  can  depart  the  country; 
I  shall  have  time  to  cast  about  me  a  little,  and  make 

shift  with  fewer  prayers.     Come,  Sigard,  shall  we ! 

[Sigard  feels  his  pulse;  the  Bishop  exclaims  anxiously:] 
How  now,  why  answer  you  not  ? 

Master  Sigard. 

[Rising.]  I  have  no  time,  my  lord.  I  must  prepare 
you  a  draught  that  may  ease  you  somewhat  at  the  last. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
Nay,  wait  with  that!     Wait, — and  answer  me! 


act  in]  THE   PRETENDERS  251 

Master  Sigard. 

I  have  no  time;   the  draught  must  be  ready  within  an 
hour.  [Goes  out  to  tlie  right. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
Within  an  hour!     [Knocks  wildly.]     Viliam!     Viliam! 
[Sir  a  Viliam  comes  out  from  the  chapel. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
Call  more  to  help  in  there!     The  eight  are  not  enough! 

Sira  Viliam. 
My  lord ? 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
More  to  help,  I  say!     Brother  Kolbein  has  lain  sick 
these  five  weeks, — he  cannot  have  sinned  much  in  that 
time 

Sira  Viliam. 

He  was  at  shrift  yesterday. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

[Eagerhj.]  Ay,  he  must  be  good;  call  him!  [Vil- 
iam goes  into  tlie  chapel  again.]  Within  an  hour!  [Dries 
t/tc  tweak  off  his  Irrow.]  Pah — how  hot  it  is  here! — The 
miserable  hound — what  boots  all  his  learning,  when  he 
cannot  add  an  hour  to  my  life?  There  sits  he  in  his 
closet  day  by  day,  piecing  together  his  cunning  wheels 
and  weights  and  levers;  he  thinks  to  fashion  a  machine 
that  shall  go  and  go  and  never  stop — perpetuum  mobile 
he  calls  it.     Why  not  rather  turn  his  art  and  his  skill 


252  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  hi 

to  making  man  such  a  perpetuum  mobile?  [Stops  and 
thinks;  his  eyes  light  up.]  Perpetuum  mobile, — I  am 
not  strong  in  Latin — but  it  means  somewhat  that  has 
power  to  work  eternally,   through  all   the  ages.     If  I 

myself,  now,  could  but ?     That    were  a  deed  to 

end  my  life  withal!  That  were  to  do  my  greatest  deed 
in  my  latest  hour!  To  set  wheel  and  weight  and  lever 
at  work  in  the  King's  soul  and  the  Duke's;  to  set  them 
a-going  so  that  no  power  on  earth  can  stop  them;  if 
I  can  but  do  that,  then  shall  I  live  indeed,  live  in  my 
work — and,  when  I  think  of  it,  mayhap  'tis  that  which 
is  called  immortality. — Comfortable,  soothing  thoughts, 
how  ye  do  the  old  man  good !  [Draws  a  deep  breath,  and 
stretches  himself  comfortably  upon  the  couch.]  Diabolus 
has  pressed  me  hard  to-night.  That  comes  of  lying 
idle;    otium  est  pulvis — pulveris — pooh,   no  matter  for 

the   Latin Diabolus   shall   no  longer  have  power 

over  me;  I  will  be  busy  to  the  last;   I  will ;  how  they 

bellow  in  yonder — —  [Knocks;  Viliam  comes  out.] 
Tell  them  to  hold  their  peace;  they  disturb  me.  The 
King  and  the  Duke  will  soon  be  here;  I  have  weighty 
matters  to  ponder. 

Sira  Viliam. 

My  lord,  shall  I  then ? 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

Bid  them  hold  awhile,  that  I  may  think  in  peace. 
Look  you,  take  up  yonder  letter  that  lies  upon  the 
floor. — Good.     Reach  me  the  papers  here 

Sira  Viliam. 
[Goes  to  the  writing -table.]     Which,  my  lord  ? 


act  in]  THE   PRETENDERS  253 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

It  matters  not ;    the  sealed  ones;    those  that  lie 

uppermost— So;  go  now  in  and  bid  them  be  silent. 
[Viliam  goes.]  To  die,  and  yet  rule  in  Norway!  To 
die,  and  yet  so  contrive  things  that  no  man  may  come 
to  raise  his  head  above  the  rest.  A  thousand  ways  may 
lead  towards  that  goal;  yet  can  there  be  but  one  that 
will   reach   it;— and   now  to  find   that  one— to  find   it 

and  follow  it Ha!     The  way  lies  so  close,  so  close 

at  hand!  Ay,  so  it  must  be.  I  will  keep  my  prom- 
ise; the  Duke  shall  have  the  letter  in  his  hands;— but 
the  King— he  shall  have  the  thorn  of  doubt  in  his  heart. 
Hakon  is  upright,  as  they  call  it;  many  things  will 
go  to  wreck  in  his  soul  along  with  the  faith  in  him- 
self and  in  his  right.  Both  of  them  shall  doubt  and 
believe  by  turns,  still  swaying  to  and  fro,  and  finding 
no  firm  ground  beneath  their  feet— perpetuum  mobile!— 
But  will  Hakon  believe  what  I  say?  Ay,  that  will  he; 
am  I  not  a  dying  man  ?— And  to  prepare  the  way  I  will 
feed  him  up  with  truths.— My  strength  fails,  but  fresh 
life  fills  my  soul;— I  no  longer  lie  on  a  sick-bed,  I  sit 
in  my  workroom;  I  will  work  the  last  night  through, 
work— till  the  light  goes  out 

Duke  Skule. 

[Enters from  Die  right  and  advances  towards  the  Bishop.] 
Peace  and  greeting,  my  honoured  lord!  I  hear  it  goes 
'11  with  you. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

I  am  a  corpse  in  the  hud,  good  Duke;  this  night  shall 
I  break  into  bloom;  to-morrow  you  may  scent  my  per- 
fume. 


254  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  hi 

Duke  Skule. 
Already  to-night,  say  you  ? 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
Maviter  Sigard  says  within  an  hour. 

Duke  Skule. 
And  Trond  the  Priest's  letter ? 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
Think  you  still  upon  that  ? 

Duke  Skule. 
'Tis  never  out  of  my  thoughts. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

The  King  has  made  you  Duke;    before  you,  no  man 
in  Norway  has  borne  that  title. 

Duke  Skule. 
'Tis  not  enough.     If  Hakon  be  not  the  rightful  king, 
then  must  I  have  all! 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
Ha,  'tis  cold  in  here;    the  blood  runs  icy  through  my 
limbs. 

Duke  Skule. 

Trond   the   Priest's   letter,   my   lord!     For  Almighty 
God's  sake,— have  you  it  ? 


act  in]  THE   PRETENDERS  255 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
At  least,  I  know  where  it  may  be  found. 

Duke  Skule. 
Tell  me  then,  tell  me! 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
Wait— 

Duke  Skule. 

Nay,  nay — lose  not  your  time;    I  see  it  draws  to  an 
end; — and  'tis  saVl  the  King  comes  hither. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

Ay,  the  King  comes;    thereby  you  may  best  see  that 
I  am  mindful  of  your  cause,  even    now. 

Duke  Skule. 
What  is  your  purpose  ? 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

Mind  you,  at  the  King's  bridal — you  said  that  Hakon's 
strength  lay  in  his  steadfast  faith  in  himself? 

Duke  Skule. 
Well? 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

If  I  confess,  and  raise  a  doubt  in  his  mind,  then  his 
faith  will  fall,  and  his  strength  with  it. 


256  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  in 

Duke  Skule. 
My  lord,  this  is  sinful,  sinful,  if  he  be  the  rightful 
king. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
'Twill  be  in  your  power  to  restore  his  faith.     Ere  I 
depart  hence,  I  will  tell  you  where  Trond  the  Priest's 
letter  may  be  found. 

Sira  Viliam. 
[From  the  right.]     The  King  is  now  coming  up  the 
street,  with  torch-bearers  and  attendants. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
He  shall  be  welcome.  [Viliam  goes.]  Duke,  I  beg 
of  you  one  last  service:  do  you  carry  on  my  feuds 
against  all  mine  enemies.  [Takes  out  a  letter.]  Here  I 
have  written  them  down.  Those  whose  names  stand 
first  I  would  fain  have  hanged,  if  it  could  be  so  ordered. 

Duke  Skule. 
Think  not  upon  vengeance  now;   you  have  but  little 
time  left 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

/' 

Not  on  vengeance,  but  on  punishment.  Promise  me 
to  wield  the  sword  of  punishment  over  all  mine  enemies 
when  I  am  gone.  They  are  your  foemen  no  less  than 
mine;  when  you  are  King  you  must  chastise  them;  do 
you  promise  me  that? 

Duke  Skule. 
I  promise  and  swear  it;    but  Trond's  letter 1 


act  in]  THE  PRETENDERS  257 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

You  shall  learn  where  it  is; — but  see — the  King 
comes;   hide  the  list  of  our  foemen! 

[The  Duke  hides  the  paper;    at  tfie  same  moment 
Hakon  enters  from  tlie  rigid. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
Well  met  at  the  grave-feast,  my  lord  King. 

Hakon. 

You  have  ever  withstood  me  stubbornly;  but  that 
shall  be  forgiven  and  forgotten  now;  death  wipes  out 
even  the  heaviest  reckoning. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

That  lightened  my  soul!  Oh  how  marvellous  is  the 
King's  clemency!  My  lord,  what  you  have  done  for 
an  old  sinner  this  night  shall  be  tenfold 

HAkon. 

No  more  of  that;  but  I  must  tell  you  that  I  greatly 
marvel  you  should  summon  me  hither  to  obtain  my  for- 
giveness, and  yet  prepare  for  me  such  a  meeting  as  this. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
Meeting,  my  lord  ? 

Duke  Skule. 

'Tis  of  me  the  King  speaks.  Will  you,  my  lord 
Bishop,  assure  King  Hakon,  by  my  faith  and  honour, 


258  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  hi 

that  I  knew  nought  of  his  coming,  ere  I  landed  at  Oslo 
wharf  ? 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

Alas,  alas!  The  blame  is  all  mine!  I  have  been 
sickly  and  bedridden  all  the  last  year;  I  have  learnt 
little  or  nought  of  the  affairs  of  the  kingdom;  I  thought 
all  was  now  well  between  the  princely  kinsmen ! 

HAkon. 

I  have  marked  that  the  friendship  between  the  Duke 
and  myself  thrives  best  when  we  hold  aloof  from  one 
another;  therefore  farewell,  Bishop  Nicholas,  and  God 
be  with  you  where  you  are  now  to  go. 

[Goes  towards  the  door. 

Duke  Skule. 
[Softly  and  uneasily.]     Bishop,  Bishop,  he  is  going! 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
[Suddenly  and  with  wild  energy.]     Stay,  King  Hakon! 

HAkon. 
[Stops.]     What  now? 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

You  shall  not  leave  this  room  until  old  Bishop  Nicholas 
has  spoken  his  last  word! 

HAkon. 

[Instinctively  lays  his  hand  upon  his  sword.]  May- 
hap you  have  come  well  attended  to  Viken,  Duke. 


act  in]  THE   PRETENDERS  259 

Duke  Skule. 
I  have  no  part  in  this. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

'Tis  by  force  of  words  that  I  will  hold  you.  Where 
there  is  a  burial  in  the  house,  the  dead  man  ever  rules 
the  roost;  he  can  do  and  let  alone  as  he  will — so  far  as 
his  power  may  reach.  Therefore  will  I  now  speak  my 
own  funeral-speech;  in  days  gone  by,  I  was  ever  sore 
afraid  lest  King  Sverre  should  come  to  speak  it 

HAkon. 
Talk  not  so  wildly,  my  lord! 

Duke  Skule. 
You  shorten  the  precious  hour  still  loft  to  you! 

HAkon. 
Your  eyes  are  already  dim! 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

9 

Ay,  my  sight  is  dim;  I  scarce  can  see  you  where  you 
stand ;_but  before  my   inward  eye,   my  life  is  moving 

in  a  blaze  of  light.     There  I  see  sights ;  hear  and 

learn,  ()  King! — My  race  was  the  mightiest  in  the  land; 
many  great  chieftains  had  sprung  from  it;  /  longed  to  be 
the  greatest  of  them  all.  I  was  yet  but  a  boy  when  I 
began  to  thirst  after  great  deeds;  meseemed  I  could  by 
no  means  wait  till  I  were  grown.  Kings  arose  who 
had  less  right  than  I, — Magnus    Erlingsson,  Sverre  the 

Priest ;    I  also  would  be  king;    but  I  must  needs  be 

a  chieftain  first.     Then  came  the  battle  at  Ilevoldene; 


260  THE  PRETENDERS  [act  in 

'twas  the  first  time  I  went  out  to  war.  The  sun  went 
up,  and  glittering  lightnings  flashed  from  a  thousand 
burnished  blades.  Magnus  and  all  his  men  advanced 
as  to  a  game;  I  alone  felt  a  tightness  at  my  heart. 
Fiercely  our  host  swept  forward ;  but  I  could  not  follow — 
I  was  afraid !  All  Magnus's  other  chieftains  fought  man- 
fully, and  many  fell  in  the  fight;  but  I  fled  up  over  the 
mountain,  and  ran  and  ran,  and  stayed  not  until  I  came 
down  to  the  fiord  again,  far  away.  Many  a  man  had 
to  wash  his  bloody  clothes  in  Trondheim-fiord  that 
night; — I  had  to  wash  mine  too,  but  not  from  blood. 
Ay,  King,  I  was  afraid; — born  to  be  a  chieftain — and 
afraid!  It  fell  upon  me  as  a  thunderbolt;  from  that 
hour  I  hated  all  men.  I  prayed  secretly  in  the  churches, 
I  wept  and  knelt  before  the  altars,  I  gave  rich  gifts, 
made  sacred  promises;  I  tried  and  tried  in  battle  after 
battle,  at  Saltosund,  at  Jonsvoldene  that  summer  the 
Baglers  lay  in  Bergen,— but  ever  in  vain.  Sverre  it  was 
who  first  noted  it;  he  proclaimed  it  loudly  and  with 
mockery,  and  from  that  day  forth,  not  a  man  in  the 
host  but  laughed  when  Nicholas  Arnesson  was  seen  in 
war- weed.  A  coward,  a  coward — and  yet  was  I  filled 
with  longing  to  be  a  chief,  to  be  a  king;  nay,  I  felt  I 
was  born  to  be  King.  I  could  have  furthered  God's 
kingdom  upon  eartn;  but  'twas  the  saints  themselves 
that  barred  the  wayffor  me. 

Hakon. 

Accuse    not    HMven,    Bishop    Nicholas!     You   have 
hated  much. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

Ay,   I   have   hated   much;     hated   every  head  in  this 
land  that  raised  itself  above  the  crowd.     But  I  hated 


act  hi]  THE  PRETENDERS  261 

because  I  could  not  love.  Fair  women, — oh,  I  could 
devour  them  even  now  with  glistening  eyes!  I  have 
lived  eighty  years,  and  yet  do  I  yearn  to  kill  men  and 
clasp  women; — but  my  lot  in  love  was  as  my  lot  in  war: 
nought  but  an  itching  will,  my  strength  sapped  from  my 
birth;  dowered  with  seething  desire — and  yet  a  weak- 
ling! So  I  became  a  priest:  king  or  priest  must  that 
man  be  who  would  have  all  might  in  his  hands.  [Laughs.] 
I  a  priest !  I  a  churchman !  Yes,  for  one  clerkly 
office  Heaven  had  notably  fitted  me — for  taking  the 
high  notes — for  singing  with  a  woman's  voice  at  the 
great  church-festivals.  And  yet  they  up  yonder  claim 
of  me — the  half-man — what  they  have  a  right  to  claim 
only  of  those  whom  they  have  in  all  things  fitted  for 
their  life-work!  There  have  been  times  when  I  fancied 
such  a  claim  might  be  just;  I  have  lain  here  on  my 
sick-bed  crushed  by  the  dread  of  doom  and  punishment. 
Now  it  is  over;  my  soul  has  fresh  marrow  in  its  bones; 
/  have  not  sinned;  it  is  /  that  have  suffered  wrong;  I 
am  the  accuser! 

Duke  Skule. 

[Softly.]  My  lord — the  letter!  You  have  little  time 
left. 

HAkon. 
Think  of  your  soul,  and  humble  you! 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

A  man's  life-work  is  his  soul,  and  my  life-work  still 
shall  live  upon  the  earth.  But  you,  King  Hakon,  you 
should  beware;  for  as  Heaven  has  stood  against  m  e  , 
and  reaped  harm  for  its  reward,  so  are  you  standing 
against  the  man  who  holds  the  country's  welfare  in 
his  hand 


262  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  m 

HAkon. 
Ha — Duke,  Duke !     Now  I  see  the  bent  of  this  meeting. 

Duke  Skule. 

[VeJiemently,  to  the  Bishop.]  Not  a  word  more  of 
this! 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

[To  HAkon.]  He  will  stand  against  you  so  long  as 
his  head  sits  fast  on  his  shoulders.  Share  with  him!  I 
will  have  no  peace  in  my  coffin,  I  will  rise  again,  if  you 
two  share  not  the  kingdom!  Neither  of  you  shall  add 
I  the  other's  height  to  his  own  stature.  If  that  befell, 
there  would  be  a  giant  in  the  land,  and  here  shall  no  giant 
|   be;   for  I  was  never  a  giant! 

[Sinks  back  exhausted  on  the  couch. 

Duke  Skule. 

[Falls  on  his  knees  beside  the  couch  and  cries  to  HAkon.] 
Summon  help!  For  God's  pity's  sake;  the  Bishop  must 
not  die  yet! 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

How  it  waxes  dusk  before  my  eyes! — King,  for  the 

last  time — will  you  share  with  the  Duke  ? 

i 

HAkon. 
Not  a  shred  will  I  let  slip  of  that  which  God  gave  me. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

Well  and  good.  [Softly.]  Your  faith,  at  least,  you 
shall  let  slip.     [Calls.]     Viliam! 


act  in]  THE   PRETENDERS  263 

Duke  Skule. 
[Softly.]     The  letter!     The  letter! 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
[Not  listening  to  him.]     Viliam!     [Viliam  enters;   the 
Bishop  draws  him  close  doivn  to  him  and  whispers.] 
When  I  received  the  Extreme  Unction,  all  my  sins  were 
forgiven  me  ? 

Sira  Viliam. 

All  your  sins  from  your  birth,  till  the  moment  you 
received  the  Unction. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
No  longer  ?     Not  until  the  very  end  ? 

Sira  Viliam. 
You  will  not  sin  to-night,  my  lord' 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

^\!lo  can  tell ?     Take  the  golden  goblet  Bishop 

Absalon  left  me— give  it  to  the  Church— and  say  seven 
high  masses  more. 

Sira  Viliam. 
God  will  be  gracious  to  you,  my  lord! 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

Seven  more  masses,  I  say— for  sins  I  may  commit 
to-night!  Go,  go!  [Viliam  goes;  the  Bishop  turns  to 
Skule.]  Duke,  if  you  should  come  to  read  Trond  the 
Priest's  letter,  and  it  should  mayhap  prove  that  Hakon 
is  the  rightful  king— what  would  you  do  then? 


264  THE  PRETENDERS  [act  m 

Duke  Skule. 
In  God's  name — king  he  should  remain. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

Bethink  you;  much  is  at  stake.  Search  every  fold 
of  your  heart;  answer  as  though  you  stood  before  your 
Judge!     What  will  you  do,  if  he  be  the  rightful  king? 

Duke  Skule. 
Bow  my  head  and  serve  him. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

[Mumbles.]  So,  so:  then  bide  the  issue.  [To  Skule.] 
Duke,  I  am  weak  and  weary;  a  mild  and  charitable 
mood  comes  over  me 

Duke  Skule. 
It  is  death!     Trond  the  Priest's  letter!     Where  is  it? 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

First  another  matter; — I  gave  you  the  list  of  my 
enemies 

Duke  Skule. 

[Impatiently.]  Yes,  yes;  I  will  take  full  revenge  upon 
them 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

No,  my  soul  is  filled  with  mildness;  I  will  forgive,  as 
the  Scripture  commands.  As  you  would  forgo  might,  I 
will  forgo  revenge.     Burn  the  list! 


act  in]  THE  PRETENDERS  265 

Duke  Skule. 
Ay,  ay;  as  you  will. 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
Here,  in  the  brazier;   so  that  I  may  see  it 

Duke  Skule. 
[Throws  the  paper  into  the  fire.]    There,  then;   see,  it 
burns.     And  now,  speak,  speak.     You  risk  thousands 
of  lives  if  you  speak  not  now ! 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

[With  sparkling  eyes.]  Thousands  of  lives.  [Shrieks  1 
Light!     Air!  J 

Hakon. 

[Rushes  to  tlie  door  and  cries.]  Help!  The  Bishop  is 
dying! 

Sira  Viliam  and  several  of  the  Bishop's  men  enter. 

Duke  Skule. 

[Shakes  the  Bishop's  arm.]  You  risk  Norway's  hap- 
piness through  hundreds  of  years,  mayhap  its  greatness 
to  all  eternity! 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
To  all  eternity!     [Triumphantly.]     Perpetuum  mobile! 

Duke  Skule. 

By  our  soul's  salvation,— where  is  Trond  the  Priest's 
letter  ? 


266  THE   PRETENDERS  [actiii 

Bishop  Nicholas. 
[Calls.]     Seven  more  masses,  Viliam! 

Duke  Skule. 
[Beside  himself.]     The  letter!     The  letter! 

Bishop  Nicholas. 

,1  /     [Smiling  in  his  death-agony.]     'Twas  it  you  burned, 
y  good  Duke !  [Falls  back  on  the  couch  and  dies. 

Duke  Skule. 

[With  an  involuntary  cry,  starts  backwards  and  covers 
his  face  with  his  hands.]     Almighty  God! 

The  Monks. 

[Rushing  in  flight  from  the  chapel.]     Save  you,   all 
who  can! 

Some  Voices. 

The  powers  of  evil  have  broken  loose! 

Other  Voices. 

There  rang  a  loud  laugh  from  the  corner! — A  voice 
cried:   "We  have  him!" All  the  lights  went  out! 

HAkon. 

Bishop  Nicholas  is  even  now  dead. 

The  Monks. 
[Fleeing  to  the  rigid.]     Pater  noster— Pater  noster. 


act  in]  THE   PRETENDERS  267 

HAkon. 

[Approaches  Skule,  and  says  in  a  low  voice.]  Duke, 
I  will  not  question  what  secret  counsel  you  were  hatching 
with  the  Bishop  ere  he  died;— but  from  to-morrow  must 
you  give  up  your  powers  and  dignities  into  my  hands; 
I  see  clearly  now  that  we  two  cannot  go  forward  together. 

Duke  Skule. 
[Looks  at  him  absently.]     Go  forward  together ? 

,  HAkon. 

To-morrow  I  hold  an  Assembly  in  the  Palace;  then 
must  all  things  be  made  clear  between  us. 

[Goes  out  to  tlie  right. 

Duke  Skule. 

The  Bishop  dead  and  the  letter  burnt!  A  life  full 
of  doubt  and  strife  and  dread!  Oh,  could  I  but  pray!— 
No— I  must  act;  this  evening  must  the  stride  be  taken, 
once  for  all!     [To  Viliam.]     Whither  went  the  King? 

Sira  Viliam. 

[Terrified.]  Christ  save  me,— what  would  you  with 
him? 

Duke  Skule. 
Think  you  I  would  slay  him  to-night  ? 

[Goes  out  to  the  right. 

Sira  Viliam. 
[Looks  after  him,  shaking  his  head,  while  the  house- 
folk  bear  the  body  out  to  the  left.]     Seven  more  masses, 


268  THE  PRETENDERS  [act  hi 

the  Bishop  said;    I  think  'twere  safest  we  should  say 
fourteen.  [Follows  tfie  otliers. 

A  room  in  the  Paloxe.  In  the  back  is  the  entrance  door; 
in  each  of  the  side  walls  a  smaller  door;  in  front,  on 
the  right,  a  window.  Hung  from  the  roof,  a  lamp  is 
burning.  Close  to  the  door  on  the  left  stands  a  bench, 
and  further  back  a  cradle,  in  which  the  King-child 
is  sleeping;   Margrete  is  kneeling  beside  the  child. 

Margrete. 
[Rocks  the  cradle  and  sings.] 

Now  roof  and  rafters  blend  with 
The  starry  vault  on  high; 
Now  flieth  little  Hakon 
On  dream-wings  through  the  sky. 

There  mounts  a  mighty  stairway 
From  earth  to  God's  own  land; 
There  Hakon  with  the  angels 
Goes  climbing,  hand  in  hand. 

God's  angel-babes  are  watching 
Thy  cot,  the  still  night  through; 
God  bless  thee,  little  Hakon, 
Thy  mother  watcheth  too. 

A  short  pause.     Duke  Skule  enters  from  tlie  back. 

Margrete. 

[Starts  up  with  a  cry  of  joy  and  rushes  to  meet  him.] 
My  father! — Oh,  how  I  have  sighed  and  yearned  for 
this  meeting! 


act  in]  THE   PRETENDERS  269 

Duke  Skule. 

God's  peace  be  with  you,  Margrete!     Where  is  the 
King? 

Margrete. 
With  Bishop  Nicholas. 

Duke  Skule. 
Ha, — then  must  he  soon  be  here. 

Margrete. 

And  you  will  talk  together  and  be  at  one,  be  friends 
again,  as  in  the  old  days? 

Duke  Skule. 
That  would  I  gladly. 

Margrete. 

T would  rejoice  Hakon  no  less;  and  I  pray  to  God 
every  day  that  so  it  may  be.  Oh,  but  come  hither  and 
see [Takes  his  hand  and  leads  him  to  the  cradle. 

Duke  Skule. 
Your  child! 

Margrete. 

Ay,  that  lovely  babe  is  mine;— is  it  not  marvellous? 
He  is  called  Hakon,  like  the  King!  See,  his  eyes— nay, 
you  cannot  see  them  now  he  is  sleeping— but  he  has 
great  blue  eyes;  and  he  can  laugh,  and  reach  forth  his 
hands  to  take  hold  of  me,— and  he  knows  me  already. 
[Smoothes  out  the  bed-clothes  tenderly. 


270  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  in 

Duke  Skule. 
Hakon  will  have  sons,  the  Bishop  foretold. 

Margrete. 

To  me  this  little  child  is  a  thousand  times  dearer  than 
all  Norway's  land — and  to  Hakon  too.  Meseems  I  can- 
not rightly  believe  my  happiness;  I  have  the  cradle  stand- 
ing by  my  bedside;  every  night,  as  often  as  I  waken,  I 
look  to  see  if  it  be  there — I  am  fearful  lest  it  should 
prove  to  be  all  a  dream 

Duke  Skule. 

[Listens  and  goes  to  the  window.]  Is  not  that  the 
King  ? 

Margrete. 

Ay;  he  is  going  up  the  other  stair;  I  will  bring  him. 
[Takes  her  father's  Jiand  and  leads  him  playfully  up  to 
the  cradle.]  Duke  Skule!  Keep  watch  over  the  King- 
child  the  while — for  he  is  a  King-child  too — though  I 
can  never  remember  it!  Should  he  wake,  then  bow 
deeply  before  him,  and  hail  him  as  men  hail  kings! 
Now  will  I  bring  Hakon.  Oh,  God,  God!  now  at  last 
come  light  and  peace  over  our  house. 

[Goes  out  to  the  right. 

Duke  Skule. 

[After  a  short  and  gloomy  silence.]  Hakon  has  a  son. 
His  race  shall  live  after  him.  If  he  die,  he  leaves  an 
heir  who  stands  nearer  the  throne  than  all  others.  All 
things  thrive  with  Hakon.  Mayhap  he  is  not  the  right- 
ful king;  but  his  faith  in  himself  stands  firm  as  ever; 
the  Bishop  would  have  shaken  it,  but  Death  gave  him 


act  in]  THE   PRETENDERS  271 

not  time,  God  gave  him  not  leave.  God  watches  over 
Hakon,  and  suffers  him  to  keep  the  girdle  of  strength. 
Were  I  to  tell  him  now  ?  Were  I  to  make  oath  to  what 
the  Bishop  told  me  ?  What  would  it  avail  ?  None 
would  believe'  me,  neither  Hakon  nor  the  others.  He 
would  have  believed  the  Bishop  in  the  hour  of  death; 
the  doubt  would  have  rankled  poisonously  in  him;  but 
it  was  not  to  be.  And  deep-rooted  as  is  Hakon's  faith, 
so  is  my  doubt  deep-rooted;  what  man  on  earth  can 
weed  it  out?  None,  none.  The  ordeal  has  been  en- 
dured, God  has  spoken,  and  still  Hakon  may  not  be 
the  rightful  king,  while  my  life  goes  to  waste.  [Seats 
hi  in  self  brood  in  (/I  y  beside  a  table  on  tlie  rigid.]  And  if, 
now,  I  won  the  kingdom,  would  not  the  doubt  dwell 
with  me  none  the  less,  gnawing  and  wearing  and  wasting 
me  away,  with  its  ceaseless  icy  drip,  drip. — Aye;  but  'tis 
better  to  sit  doubting  on  the  throne  than  to  stand  down 
in  the  crowd,  doubting  of  him  who  sits  there  in  your 
ptead. — There  must  be  an  end  between  me  and  Hakon! 
An  end  ?  But  how  ?  [Rises.]  Almighty,  thou  who  hast 
thus  bestead  me,  thou  must  bear  the  guilt  of  the  issue! 
[Goes  to  and  fro,  stops  and  reflects.]  I  must  break  down 
all  bridges,  hold  only  one,  and  there  conquer  or  fall 
— as  the  Bishop  said  at  the  bridal-feast  at  Bergen. 
That  is  jnow_nigh  upon  three  years  sipop.  and  through 
all  that  time  have  1  split  up  and  spilt  my  strength  in 
trying  to  guard  all  the  bridges.  [With  energy.]  Now 
must  I  follow  the  Bishop's  counsel;  now  or  never! 
Here  are  we  both  in  Oslo;  this  time  I  have  more  men 
than  Hakon;  why  not  seize  the  advantage — 'tis  so  sel- 
dom on  my  side.     [Vacillating.]     But  to-night ?     At 

once >?     No,    no!     Not   to-night!     Ha-ha-ha— there 

again! — pondering,  wavering!    Hakon  knows  not  what 
that  means;    he  goes  straight  forward,  and  so  he  con- 


272 


THE  PRETENDERS  [act  hi 


quers!  [Going  up  the  room,  stops  suddenly  beside  the 
cradle.]  The  King-child !— How  fair  a  brow!  He  is 
dreaming.  [Smoothes  out  the  bed-clothes,  and  looks  long 
at  the  child.]  Such  an  one  as  thou  can  save  many 
things  in  a  man's  soul.     I  have  no  son:     [Bends  over 

the  cradle.]     He  is  like  Hakon [Shrinks  suddenly 

backwards.]  The  King-child,  said  the  Queen!  Bow 
low  before  him  and  hail  him  as  men  hail  kings!  Should 
Hakon  die  before  me,  this  child  will  be  raised  to  the 
throne;  and  I— I  shall  stand  humbly  before  him,  and 
bow  low  and  hail  him  as  king!  [In  rising  agitation.] 
This  child,  Hakon's  son,  shall  sit  on  high,  on  the  seat 
that  should  in  right,  mayhap,  be  mine— and  I  shall 
stand  before  his  footstool,  white-haired  and  bowed  with 
age,  and  see  my  whole  life-work  lying  undone— die 
without  having  been  king!— I  have  more  men  than 
Hakon— there  blows  a  storm  to-night,   and  the  wind 

sweeps  down  the  fiord !     If  I  took  the  King-child? 

I  am  safe  with  the  Tronders.1     What  would  Hakon  dare 

attempt,  were  his  child  in  my  power?     My  men  will 

follow  me,  fight  for  me  and  conquer.     Their  reward 

'   shall  be  kingly,  and  they  know  it.— So  shall  it  be!     I 

i   will  take  the  stride;    I  will  leap  the  abyss,  for  the  first 

J    time!     Could  I  but  see  if  thou  hast  Sverre's  eyes— 

or  Hakon  Sverresson's !     He  sleeps.     I  cannot  see 

them.  [A  pause.]  Sleep  is  as  a  shield.  Sleep  in  peace, 
thou  little  Pretender!  [Goes  over  to  the  table.]  Hakon 
shall  decide;   once  again  will  I  speak  with  him. 

Margrete. 
[Enters,  with  the  King,  from  the  room  on  the  right.] 
The  Bishop  dead!     Oh,  trust  me,  all  strife  dies  with 

him. 

1  Men  of  the  Trondheim  district. 


act  in]  THE   PRETENDERS  273 

HAkon. 

To  bed,  Margrete!  You  must  be  weary  after  the 
journey. 

Margrete. 

Yes,  yes.  [To  tlie  Duke.]  Father,  be  kind  and  yield- 
ing— Hakon  has  promised  to  be  the  like!  A  thousand 
good-nights,  to  both  of  you ! 

[Makes  a  gesture  of  farewell  at  the  door  on  tlie  left, 
and  goes  out;  two  women  carry  out  the  cradle. 

Duke  Skule. 

King  Hakon,  this  time  we  must  not  part  as  foes. 
All  evil  will  follow;  there  will  fall  a  time  of  dread  upon 
the  land. 

HAkon. 

The  land  has  known  nought  else  through  many  gen- 
erations; but,  see  you,  God  is  with  me;  every  foeman 
falls  that  would  stand  against  me.  There  are  no  more 
Baglers,  no  Slittungs,  no  Ribbungs;  Earl  Jon  is  slain, 
Guthorm  Ingesson  is  dead,  Sigurd  Ribbung  likewise — 
all  claims  that  were  put  forth  at  the  folkmote  at  Bergen 
have  fallen  powerless — from  whom,  then,  should  the 
time  of  dread  come  now  ? 

Duke  Skule. 
Hakon,  I  fear  me  it  might  come  from  me! 

HAkon. 

When  I  came  to  the  throne,  I  gave  you  the  third  part 
of  the  kingdom 


274  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  hi 

Duke  Skulb. 
But  kept  two-thirds  yourself 

Hakon. 

You  ever  thirsted  after  more;    I  eked  out  your  share 
until  now  you  hold  half  the  kingdom. 

Duke  Skule. 
There  lack  ten  ship-wards.1 

Hakon. 

I  made  you  Duke;   that  has  no  man  been  in  Norway 
before  you. 

Duke  Skule. 

/  But  you  are  king!  I  must  have  no  king  over  me":  I 
J  was  not  born  to  serve  you;  I  must  rule  in  my  own 
,    right ! 

HAkon. 

[Looks  at  him  for  a  moment,  and  says  coldly:]  Heaven 
guard  your  understanding,  my  lord.     Good  night. 

[Going. 

Duke  Skule. 

[Blocking  the  way.}  You  shall  not  go  from  me  thus! 
Beware,  or  I  will  forswear  all  faith  with  you;  you  can 
no  longer  be  my  overlord^  we  two  must  share! 

Hakon. 

You  dare  to  say  this  to  me! 

« Skibreder,  districts  each  of  which  furnished  a  ship  to  the  fleet. 


act  in]  THE   PRETENDERS  275 

Duke  Skulk. 
I  have  more  men  than  you  in  Oslo,  Hakon  Hakonsson. 

HAkon. 
Mayhap  you  think  to 

Duke  Skule. 

Hearken  to  me!  Think  of  the  Bishop's  words!  Let 
us  share;  give  me  the  ten  ship-wards;  let  me  hold  my 
share  as  a  free  kingdom,  without  tax  or  tribute.  Norway 
has  ere  this  been  parted  into  two  kingdoms; — we  will 
hold  firmly  together 

HAkon. 

Duke,  you  must  be  soul-sick,  that  you  can  crave  such 
a  thing. 

Duke  Skule. 

Ay,  I  am  soul-sick,  and  there  is  no  other  healing  for 
me.  We  two  must  be  equals;  there  must  be  no  man 
over  me! 

HAkon. 

Every  treeless  skerry  is  a  stone  in  the  building  which 
Harald  Harfager  and  the  sainted  King  Olaf  reared; 
would  you  have  me  break  in  twain  what  they  have 
mortised  together?     Never! 

^  Duke  Skule. 

t>Well,  then  let  us  reign  by  turns;  let  each  bear  sway 
for  three  years!  You  have  reigned  long;  now  my  turn 
has  come.     Depart  from  the  land  for  three  years,— I 


276  THE  PRETENDERS  [act  m 

will  be  king  the  while;  I  will  even  out  your  paths  for 
you  against  your  home-coming;  I  will  guide  all  things 
for  the  best;— it  wears  and  blunts  the  senses  to  sit  ever 
on  the  watch.  Hakon,  hear  me— three  years  each;  let 
us  wear  the  crown  by  turns! 

Hakon. 
Think  you  my  crown  would  fit  well  on  your  brow  ? 

Duke  Skule. 
No  crown  is  too  wide  for  me' 

Hakon. 
It  needs  a  God-sent  right  and  a  God-sent  calling  to 
wear  the  crown. 

Duke  Skule. 
And  know  you  so  surely  that  you  have  a  God-sent 
right  ? 

Hakon. 
I  have  God's  own  word  for  it. 

Duke  Skule. 

Rest  not  too  surely  on  that.  Had  the  Bishop  had 
time  to  speak— but  that  were  bootless  now;  you  would 
not  believe  me.  Ay,  truly  you  have  mighty  allies  on 
high-  but  I  defy  you  none  the  less!  You  will  not  reign 
by  turns  with^ne?  Well-then  must  we  try  the  last 
resort;— HakorV^let  us  two  fight  for  it,  man  to  man,  with 
heavy  weapons,  for  life  or  death! 


act  in]  THE   PRETENDERS  277 

HAkon. 

Speak  you  in  jest,  my  lord? 

Duke  Skule. 
I  speak  for  my  life-work  and  for  my  soul's  salvation! 

HAkon. 
Then  is  there  small  hope  for  the  saving  of  your  soul. 

Duke  Skule. 
You  will  not  fight  with  me?     You  shall,  you  shall! 

HAkon. 

Oh  blinded 'man!  I  cannot  but  pity  you.  You 
think  'tis  the  Lord's  calling  that  draws  you  toward  the 
throne;  you  see  not  that  'tis  nought  but  pride  of  heart. 
What  is  it  that  allures  you?  The  royal  circlet,  the 
purple-bordered  mantle,  the  right  to  be  seated  three 
steps  above  the  floor;— pitiful,  pitiful!  Were  that 
kingship,  I  would  cast  it  into  your  hat,  as  I  cast  a  groat 
to  a  beggar. 

Duke  Skule. 

You  have  known  me  since  your  childhood,  and  you 
judge  me  thus! 

HAkon. 

You  have  wisdom  and  courage  and  all  noble  gifts 
of  the  mind;  you  are  born  to  stand  nearest  a  king,  but 
not  to  be  a  king  yourself. 

Duke  Skule. 
That  will  we  now  put  to  the  proof! 


278  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  in 

Hakon. 
Name  me  a  single  king's-task  you  achieved  in  all 
the  years  you  were  regent  for  me!  Were  the  Baglers 
or  the  Ribbungs  ever  mightier  than  then?  You  were 
in  ripe  manhood,  yet  the  land  was  harried  by  rebellious 
factions;  did  you  quell  a  single  one  of  them?  I  was 
young  and  untried  when  I  came  to  the  helm— look  at  me 
—all  fell  before  me  when  I  became  king;  there  are  no 
Baglers,  no  Ribbungs  left! 

Duke  Skule. 
Beware  how  you  boast  of  that;  for  there  lies  the 
greatest  danger.  Party  must  stand  against  party,  claim 
against  claim,  region  against  region,  if .  the  king  is  to 
have  the  might.  Every  village,  every  family,  must 
either  need  him  or  fear  him.  If  you  strike  at  the  root 
of  faction,  at  the  same  stroke  you  kill  your  own  power. 

Hakon. 
And  you  would  be  king— you,  who  think  such  thoughts! 
You  had  been  well  fitted  for  a  chieftain's  part  in  Erling 
Skakke's  days;  but  the  time  has  grown  away  from  you, 
and  you  know  it  not.  See  you  not,  then,  that  Norway's 
realm,  as  Harald  and  Olaf  built  it  up,  may  be  likened 
to  a  church  that  stands  as  yet  unconsecrate  ?  The  walls 
soar  aloft  with  mighty  buttresses,  the  vaultings  have  a 
noble  span,  the  spire  points  upward,  like  a  fir-tree  in 
the  forest;  but  the  life,  the  throbbing  heart,  the  fresh 
blood-stream,  is  lacking  t©  the  work;  God's  living  spirit 
is  not  breathed  into  it;  it  stands  unconsecrate.—/  will 
bring  consecration!  Norway  has  been  a  kingdom, 
it  shall  become  a  people.  The  Tronder  has  stood 
against  the  man  of  Viken,  the  Agdeman  against  the  Hor- 


act  in]  THE   PRETENDERS  279 

dalander,  the  Halogalander  against  the  Sogndalesman ; 
all  shall  be  one  hereafter,  and  all  shall  feel  and  know 
that  they  are  one!  That  is  the  task  which  God  has 
laid  on  my  shoulders;  that  is  the  work  which  now 
lies  before  the  King  of  Norway.  That  life-work,  Duke, 
I  think  you  were  best  to  leave  untried,  for  truly  it  is 
beyond  you. 

Duke  Skule. 

[Impressed.]    To  unite ?     To  unite  the  Tronders^ 

and  the  men  of  Viken, — all  Norway ?     [Sceptically.]      * 

'Tis  impossible!     Norway's  saga  tells  of  no  such  thing!/      / 

Hakon. 

For  you  'tis  impossible,  for  you  can  but  work  out 
the  old  saga  afresh;  for  me,  'tis  as  easy  as  for  the  falcon 
to  cleave  the  clouds. 

Duke  Skule. 

[In  uneasy  agitation.]  To  unite  the  whole  people — 
to  awaken  it  so  that  it  shall  know  itself  one!  Whence 
got  you  so  strange  a  thought  ?  It  runs  through  me  like 
ice  and  fire.  [V eliemently .]  It  comes  from  the  devil, 
Hakon;  it  shall  never  be  carried  through  while  I  have 
strength  to  buckle  on  my  helm. 

HAkon. 

'Tis  from  God  the  thought  comes  to  me,  and  never 
shall  I  let  it  slip  while  I  bear  St.  Olaf's  circlet  on  my 
brow! 

Duke  Skule. 

Then  must  St.  Olaf's  circlet  fall  from  your  brow! 


280  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  hi 

Hakon 
Who  will  make  it  fall  ? 

Duke  Skule. 
I,  if  none  other. 

Hakon. 
You,  Skule,  will  be  harmless  after  to-morrow's  As- 
sembly. 

Duke  Skule. 
Hakon!     Tempt  not  God!     Drive  me  not  out  upon 
the  last  ledge  of  the  deep! 

Hakon. 
[Points  to  the  door.]     Go,  my  lord— and  be  it  forgotten 
<  that  we  have  spoken  with  sharp  tongues  this  night. 

Duke  Skule. 
[Looks  hard  at  him  for  a  moment,  and  says:]     Next 
time,  'twill  be  with  sharper  tongues  we  speak. 

[Goes  to  the  back. 

Hakon. 

[After  a  short  pause.]  He  threatens!  No,  no,  it  can- 
not come  to  that.  He  must,  he  shall  give  way  and  do 
my  will;  I  have  need  of  that  strong  arm,  that  cunning 
brain.— Whatsoever  courage  and  wisdom  and  strength 
there  may  be  in  this  land,  all  gifts  that  God  has  en- 
dowed men  withal,  are  but  granted  them  to  my  uses. 
For  my  service  did  all  noble  gifts  fall  to  Duke  Skule's 
share;  to  defy  me  is  to  defy  Heaven;  'tis  my  duty  to 
punish  whosoever  shall  set  himself  up  against  Heaven's 
will— for  Heaven  has  done  so  much  for  me. 


act  in]  THE  PRETENDERS  281 

Dagfinn  the  Peasant. 

[Enters  from  tfie  back.]  Be  on  your  guard  to-night,  my 
lord;    the  Duke  has  surely  evil  in  his  mind. 

HIkon. 

What  say  you  ? 

Dagfinn. 

What  may  be  his  drift,  I  know  not;  but  sure  am  I 
that  something  is  brewing. 

HAkon. 
Can  he  think  to  fall  upon  us  ?     Impossible,  impossible! 

Dagfinn. 

No,  'tis  something  else.  His  ships  lie  clear  for  sail- 
ing; he  has  summoned  an  Assembly  on  board  them. 

HAkon. 

You  must  mistake !     Go,  Dagfinn,  and  bring  me 

sure  tidings. 

Dagfinn. 

Ay  ay,  trust  to  me.  [Goes. 

HAkon. 

No, — 'tis  not  to  be  thought  of!  The  Duke  dare  not 
rise  against  me.  God  will  not  suffer  it — God,  who  has 
hitherto  guided  all  things  for  me  so  marvellously.  I 
must  have  peace  now,  for  'tis  now  I  must  set  about  my 
work! — I  have  done  so  little  yet;  but  I  hear  the  unerring 
voice  of  the  Lord  calling  to  me:  Thou  shalt  do  a  great 
king's- work  in  Norway! 


282  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  hi 

Gregorius  Jonsson. 
[Enters  from  the  back.]     My  lord  and  King! 

HAkon. 

Gregorius  Jonsson !     Come   you   hither  ? 

Gregorius  Jonsson. 

I  offer  myself  for  your  service.     Thus  far  have  I  fol- 
lowed the  Duke;  but  now  I  dare  follow  him  no  further. 

HAkon. 
What  has  befallen  ? 

Gregorius  Jonsson. 

That  which  no  man  will  believe,  when  'tis  rumoured 
through  the  land. 

HAkon. 

Speak,  speak! 

Gregorius  Jonsson. 

I  tremble  to  hear  the  sound  of  my  own  words;   know 
then [He  seizes  the  King's  arm  and  whispers. 

HAkon. 

[Starts  backwards  with  a  cry.]    Ha,  are  you  distraught  ? 

Gregorius  Jonsson. 
Would  to  God  I  were. 

HAkon. 

Unheard  of!     No,  it  cannot  be  true! 


act  hi]  THE   PRETENDERS  283 

Gregorius  Jonsson. 
By  Christ's  dear  blood,  so  is  it! 

HAkon. 

Go,  go;  sound  the  trumpet-call  for  my  guard;  get 
all  my  men  under  arms.  [Gregorius  Jonsson  goes. 

HAkon. 

[Paces  the  room  once  or  twice,  then  goes  quickly  up  to 
the  door  of  Margrete  's  chamber,  knocks  at  it,  takes  one 
or  two  more  turns  through  Hie  room,  then  goes  again  to 
the  door,  knocks,  and  calls.]     Margrete! 

[Goes  on  pacing  up  and  down. 

Margrete. 

[In  the  doorway,  attired  for  the  night,  with  her  hair 
down;  she  has  a  red  cloak  round  her  shoulders,  Iwlding 
it  close  togetlier  over  her  breast.]     Hakon !     Is  it  you  ? 

HAkon. 
Yes,  yes;  come  hither. 

Margrete. 
Oh,  but  you  must  not  look  at  me;  I  was  in  bed  already. 

HAkon. 
I  have  other  things  to  think  of. 

Margrete. 
What  has  befallen. 


284  THE  PRETENDERS  [act  hi 

Hakon. 

Give  me  a  good  counsel!     I  have  even  now  received 
the  worst  tidings. 

Mabgrete. 

[Alarmed.]     What  tidings,  Hakon  ? 

Hakon. 
That  there  are  now  two  kings  in  Norway. 

Margrete. 
Two  kings  in  Norway! — Hakon,  where  is  my  father? 

Hakon. 

He  has  proclaimed  himself  king  on  board  his  ship; 
now  he  is  sailing  to  Nidaros  to  be  crowned. 

Margrete. 

Oh  God,  thou  almighty ! 

[Sinks  down  on  the  bench,  covers  her  face  with  her 
hands  and  weeps.] 

Hakon. 

Two  kings  in  the  land! 

Margrete. 
My  husband  the  one — my  father  the  other! 

Hakon. 

[Pacing   restlessly   up   and   down.]     Give  me  a  good 
counsel,  Margrete!     Should  I  cross  the  country  by  way 


act  in]  THE  PRETENDERS  285 

of  the  Uplands,  come  first  to  Nidaros,  and  prevent  the 
crowning?  No,  it  may  not  be  done;  my  men  are  too 
few;  there  in  the  north  he  is  more  powerful  than  I. — 
Give  me  counsel;  how  can  I  have  the  Duke  slain,  ere 
he  come  to  Nidaros  ? 

Margrete. 
[Imploringly,  with  folded  Iiands.]     Hakon,  Hakon! 

HAkon. 

Can  you  not  hit  upon  a  good  device,  I  say,  to  have  the 
Duke  slain  ? 

Margrete. 

[Sinks  down  from  the  bench  in  agony  and  remains  kneel- 
ing.]    Oh,  can  you  so  utterly  forget  that  he  is  my  father  ? 

HAkon. 

Your  father ;    ay,  ay,  it  is  true;    I  had  forgotten. 

[Raises  her  up.]  Sit,  sit,  Margrete;  comfort  you;  do 
not  weep;  you  have  no  fault  in  this.  [Goes  over  to  the 
window.]  Duke  Skule  will  be  worse  for  me  than  all 
other  foemen!  God,  God, — why  hast  thou  stricken  me 
so  sorely,  when  I  have  in  nowise  sinned!  [A  knock  at 
the  door  in  tlie  back;  lie  starts,  listens,  and  cries:]  Who 
knocks  so  late? 

Inga's  Voice. 

[Without.]     One  who  is  a-cold,  Hakon! 

HAkon. 

[With  a  cry.]     My  mother! 


286  THE  PRETENDERS  [act  in 

Margrete. 
[Springs  up.]     Inga! 

HAkon. 

[Rushes  to  the  door  and  opens  it;  Inga  is  sitting  on 
the  doorstep.]  My  mother!  Sitting  like  a  dog  outside 
her  son's  door!     And  I  ask  why  God  has  stricken  me! 

Inga. 

[Stretches  out  her  arms  towards  him.]  Hakon,  my 
child!     Blessings  upon  you! 

Hakon. 

[Raising  her  up.]  Come — come  in;  here  are  light 
and  warmth! 

Inga. 

May   I  come  in  to  you  ? 

HAkon. 

Never  shall  we  part  again.     > 

Inga. 

My  son — my  King — oh,  but  you  are  good  and  loving! 
I  stood  in  a  corner  and  saw  you,  as  you  came  from  the 
Bishop's  Palace;  you  looked  so  sorrowful;  I  could 
not  part  from  you  thus. 

HAkon. 

God  be  thanked  for  that!  No  one,  truly,  could  have 
come  to  me  more  welcome  than  you!     Margrete — my 


act  in]  THE  PRETENDERS 

mother — I  have  sorely  sinned;  I  have  barred  my  hea 
against  you  two,  who  are  so  rich  in  love. 

Margrete. 

[Falls  on  his  neck.]     Oh,  Hakon,  my  beloved  hu« 
do  I  stand  near  you  now  ? 

Hakon. 

Ay,  near  me,  near  me;  not  to  give  me  cu 
but  to  shed  light  over  my  path.     Con- 
the  Lord's  strength  within  me! 

Dagfinn  the 

[Enters   hastily  from   0 
the  worst  has  befallen ' 


[Smiles  conJ 
closely  to  h> 
good  Dp- 
is  but 


ACT   FOURTH 

teat  hall  in  Oslo  Palace.     King  Skule  is  feasting 
'h  the  Guard  and  his  Chiefs.     In  front,  on  the 
stands   the   throne,    where   Skule   sits,   richly 
with  a   purple  mantle  and  the  royal  circlet 
ad.     The  supper-table,  by  which  the  guests 
^etches  from  the  throne  towards  the  back- 
He  to  Skule  sit  Paul  Flida  and 
^ome   of  the   humbler   guests   are 
t.     It  is  late  evening;    the  hall 
*ie  banquet  is  drawing  to  a  close; 
"nd  some  of  them  drunk; 
7"   and  all  talk  togetlier. 


in    the    hall; 
>ur  of  King 


v/ 


act  iv]  THE   PRETENDERS  289 

King  Skule  marched  over  the  Dovrefjeld, 
His  host  upon  snow-shoes  sped; 
The  Gudbranddalesman  he  grovelled  for  grace,  > 
But  his  hoard  must  e'en  ransom  his  head. 

King  Skule  south  over  Miosen  fared, — 
The  Uplander  cursed  at  his  banner; 
King  Skule  hasted  through  Raumarike 
To  Laka  in  Nannestad  manor. 

'Twas  all  in  the  holy  Shrove-tide  week 

We  met  with  the  Birehleg  horde; 

Earl  Knut  was  their  captain — the  swords  with  loud  tongue 

In  the  suit  for  the  throne  made  award. 

They  say  of  -a  truth  that  since  Sverre's  days 
Was  never  so  hot  a  fight; 
Rcd-sprent,  like  warriors'  winding-sheets, 
Grew  the  upland  that  erst  lay  white. 

They  took  to  their  heels  did  the  Birchenlegs, 
Flinging  from  them  both  buckler  and  bill  there; 
Many  hundreds,  though,  took  to  their  heels  nevermore, 
For  they  lay  and  were  icily  chill  there. 

No  man  knows  where  King  Hakon  hideth; — 
King  Skule  stands  safe  at  the  helm. 
All  hail  and  long  life  to  thee,  lord,  in  thy  state 
As  King  of  all  Norway's  realm! 

Skule's  Men. 

[Spring  up  with  hud  jubilation,   hold  goblets  and 
beakers  aloft,  clash  tJieir  weapons,  and  repeat: 

All  hail  and  long  life  to  thee,  lord,  in  thy  state 
As  King  of  all  Norway's  realm! 


v. 


290  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  iv 

King  Skule. 

Thanks  for  the  song,  Jatgeir  Skald!  'Tis  as  I  best 
like  it;    for  it  gives  my  men  no  less  praise  than  myself. 

Jatgeir. 
The  King  is  honoured  when  his  men  are  praised. 

King  Skule. 

Take  as  guerdon  this  arm-ring,  stay  with  me,  and  be 
of  my  household;   I  will  have  many  skalds  about  me. 

Jatgeir. 

'Twill  need  many,  my  lord,  if  all  your  great  deeds  are 
to  be  sung. 

King  Skule. 

I  will  be  threefold  more  bountiful  than  Hakon;  the 
skald's  song  shall  be  honoured  and  rewarded  like  all 
other  noble  deeds,  so  long  as  I  am  king.  Be  seated; 
now  you  belong  to  my  household;  all  you  have  need 
of  shall  be  freely  given  you. 

Jatgeir. 

[Seats  himself.]  Ere  long  there  will  be  a  dearth  of 
what  I  most  need,  my  lord. 

King  Skule. 
What  mean  you  ? 

Jatgeir. 
Foes  to  King  Skule,  whose  flight  and  fall  I  can  sing. 


act  iv]  THE   PRETENDERS  291 

Many  of  the  Men. 
[Amid  laugfUer  and  applause.]     Well  said,  Icelander! 

Paul  Flida. 

[To  Jatgeir.]  The  song  was  good;  but  'tis  known 
there  goes  a  spice  of  lying  to  every  skaldwork,  and  yours 
was  not  without  it. 

Jatgeir. 
Lying,  Sir  Marshal? 

Paul  Flida. 

Ay;  you  say  no  man  knows  where  King  Hakon  is 
hiding;  that  is  not  true;  we  have  certain  tidings  that 
Hakon  is  at  Nidaros. 

King  Skule. 

[Smiling.]  He  has  claimed  homage  for  the  King- 
child,  and  given  it  the  kingly  title. 

Jatgeir. 

That  have  I  heard;  but  I  knew  not  that  any  man 
could  give  away  that  which  he  himself  does  not  possess. 

King  Skule. 
'Tis  easiest  to  give  what  you  yourself  do  not  possess. 

BArd  Bratte. 

But  it  can  scarce  be  easy  to  beg  your  way  in  mid- 
winter from  Bergen  to  Nidaros. 


292  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  iv 

Jatgeir. 

The  fortunes  of  the  Birchlegs  move  in  a  ring;  they 
began  hungry  and  frozen,  and  now  they  end  in  like  case. 

Paul  Flida. 

'Tis  rumoured  in  Bergen  that  Hakon  has  forsworn 
the  Church  and  all  that  is  holy;  he  heard  not  mass  on 
New  Year's  day. 

Bard  Bratte. 

He  could  plead  lawful  hindrance,  Paul;  he  stood  all 
day  cutting  his  silver  goblets  and  dishes  to  pieces — he 
had  naught  else  wherewith  to  pay  his  household. 

[Laughter  and  loud  talk  among  the  guests. 

King  Skule. 

[Raises  his  goblet.]  I  drink  to  you,  Bard  Bratte,  and 
thank  you  and  all  my  new  men.  You  fought  manfully 
for  me  at  Laka,  and  bore  a  great  part  in  the  victory. 

Bard  Bratte. 

It  was  the  first  time  I  fought  under  you,  my  lord; 
but  I  soon  felt  that  'tis  easy  to  conquer  when  such  a 
chieftain  as  you  rides  at  the  head  of  the  host.  But  I 
would  we  had  not  slain  so  many  and  chased  them  so 
far;  for  now  I  fear  'twill  be  long  ere  they  dare  face  us 
again. 

King  Skule. 

Wait  till  the  spring:  we  shall  meet  them  again,  never 
fear.  Earl  Knut  lies  with  the  remnant  at  Tunsberg 
rock,  and  Arnbiorn  Jonsson  is  gathering  a  force  eastward 


act  iv]  THE   PRETENDERS  293 

in  Vikcn;  when  they  deem  themselves  strong  enough, 
they  will  soon  let  us  hear  from  them. 

BArd  Bratte. 

They  will  never  dare  to,  after  the  great  slaughter  at 
Laka. 

King  Skule. 
Then  will  we  lure  them  forth  with  cunning. 

Many  Voices. 
Ay,  ay — do  so,  lord  King! 

BArd  Bratte. 

You  have  good  store  of  cunning,  King  Skule.  Your 
foemen  have  never  warning  ere  you  fall  upon  them,  and 
you  are  ever  there  where  they  least  await  you. 

Paul  Flida. 
'Tis  therefore  that  the  Birchlegs  call  us  Varbselgs.1 

King  Skule. 

Others  say  Vargbrelgs;  but  this  I  swear,  that  when 
next  we  meet,  the  Birchlegs  shall  learn  how  hard  it  is 
to  turn  such  Wolf-skins  inside  out. 

1  The  derivation  of  this  word  is  doubtful.  In  the  form  Vargbcelg  it 
means  Wolf-skin,  from  Icelandic  Vargr=a  wolf,  and  Belgr =the  skin 
of  an  animal  taken  off  whole.  The  more  common  form,  however,  is 
Varbelg,  which,  as  P.  A.  Munch  suggests  ("Det  Norske  Folks  His- 
toric," iii.  219),  may  possibly  come  from  var  (our  word  "ware"),  a 
•overing,  and  may  be  an  allusion  to  the  falsity  and  cunning  of  the 
faction.  What  Ibson  understands  by  the  form  Varbalg  I  cannot 
discover.  Var  (Icelandic  Vdr)  means  the  springtide.  The  nick- 
name had  been  applied  to  a  political  faction  as  early  as  1190,  and 
was  merely  revived  as  a  designation  for  Skule's  adherents. 


294  THE  PRETENDERS  [act  iv 

Bard  Bratte. 

With  their  good  will  shall  we  never  meet — 'twill  be  a 
chase  the  whole  country  round. 

King  Skule. 

Ay,  that  it  shall  be.     First  we  must  purge  Viken, 
and  make  sure  of  all  ihese  eastward  parts;  then  will  we 
get  our  ships  together,  and  sail  round  the  Naze  and  up 
,  the  coast  to  Nidaros. 

Bard  Bratte. 

And  when  you  come  in  such  wise  to  Nidaros,  I  scarce 
think  the  monks  will  deny  to  move  St.  Olaf  s  shrine 
out  to  the  mote-stead,  as  they  did  in  the  autumn,  when 
we  swore  allegiance. 

King  Skule. 

The  shrine    shall    out;  I  will  bear  my  kingship  in 
.    in  all  ways  lawfully. 

Jatgeir. 

And  I  promise  you  to  sing  a  great  death-song,  when 
you  have  slain  the  Sleeper. 

[An  outburst  of  laughter  among  the  men. 

King  Skule.  \ 

The  Sleeper  ?  ^ 

Jatgeir. 

Know  you  not,  my  lord,  that  King  Hakon  is  called 
"Hakon  the  Sleeper,"  because  he  sits  as  though  be- 
numbed ever  since^yon  came  to  the  throne? 


r 


act  iv]  THE   PRETENDERS  295 

BArd  Bratte. 

They  say  he  lies  ever  with  his  eyes  closed.     Doubtless 
he  dreams  that  he  is  still  king. 

King  Skule. 

Let  him  dream;    he  shall  never  dream  himself  back 
into  the  kingship. 

Jatgeir. 

Let  his  sleep  be  long  and  dreamless,  then  shall  I  have 
stuff  for  songs. 

The  Men. 
Ay,  ay,  do  as  the  skald  says! 

King  Skule. 

When  so  many  good  men  counsel  as  one,  the  counsel 
must  be  good;  yet  will  we  not  talk  now  of  that  matter. 
But  one  promise  I  will  make:  each  of  my  men  shall 
inherit  the  weapons  and  harness,  and  gold  and  silver, 
of  whichever  one  of  the  enemy  he  slays;  and  each  man 
shall  succeed  to  the  dignities  of  him  he  lays  low.  He 
who  slays  a  baron  shall  himself  be  a  baron;  he  who  - 
slays  a  thane,  shall  receive  his  thaneship;  and  all  they  ' 
who  already  hold  such  dignities  and  offices,  shall  be 
rewarded  after  other  kingly  sort. 

The  Men. 

[Spring  up  in  ivild  delight.]     Hail,  hail,  King  Skule!    1 
Lead  us  against  the  Birchlegs! 

BArd  Bratte. 
Now  are  you  sure  to  conquer  in  all  battles. 


2i«  THE  PRETENDERS  [act  iv 

Paul  Flida. 
I  claim  Dagfinn  the  Peasant  for  myself;    he  owns  a 
good  sword  that  J  have  long  hankered  after. 

Bard  Bratte. 
I  will  have  Bard  Torsteinsson's  hauberk;  it  saved  his 
life  at  Laka,  for  it  withstands  both  cut  and  thrust. 

Jatgeir. 
Nay,  but  let  me  have  it;    'twill  fit   me   better;    you 
shall  have  five  golden  marks  in  exchange. 

Bard  Bratte. 
Where  will  you  find  five  golden  marks,  Skald  ? 

Jatgeir. 
I  will  take  them  from  Gregorius  Jonsson  when  we 
j     come  northward. 

The  Men. 

[All    talking    together.]      And    I    will    have— I    will 
have [The  rest  becomes  indistinct  in  the  hubbub. 

Paul  Flida. 
Away!     Every  man  to  his  quarters;  bethink  you  that 
you  are  in  the  King's  hall. 

The  Men. 
Ay,  ay,— hail  to  the  King,  hail  to  King  Skule! 

King  Skule. 
To  bed  now,  good  fellows!     We  have  sat  long  over 
the  drinking-table  to-night. 


act  iv]  THE  PRETENDERS  297 

A  Man-at-Arms. 

[As  the  crowd  is  trooping  out.]     To-morrow  we  will 
oast  lots  for  the  Birchlegs'  goods. 

Another. 
Rather  leave  it  to  luck! 


Nay,  nay! 
Ay,  ay! 


Several. 
Others. 


BArd  Bratte. 
Now  the  Wolf-skins  are  fighting  for  the  bear-fell. 

Paul  Flida. 
And  they  have  yet  to  fell  the  bear. 

[All  go  out  by  tlie  back. 

King  Skule. 
[Waits  till  tlie  men  are  gone;  the  tension  of  his  features 
relaxes;  fie  sinks  upon  a  bench.]  How  weary  I  am, 
weary  to  death.  To  live  in  the  midst  of  that  swarm 
day  out  and  day  in,  to  look  smilingly  ahead  as  though 
I  were  so  immovably  assured  of  right  and  victory  and 
fortune.  To  have  no  creature  with  whom  I  may  speak 
of  all  that  gnaws  me  so  sorely.  [Rises  ivith  a  look  of 
terror.]  And  the  battle  at  Laka!  That  I  should  have 
conquered  there!  Hakon  sent  his  host  against  me; 
God  was  to  judge  and  award  between  the  two  kings— 
and  I  conquered,  conquered,  as  never  any  before  has 
conquered  the  Birchlegs!     Their  shields  stood  upright 


298  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  iv 

in  the  snow,  but  there  was  none  behind  them — the 
Birchlegs  took  to  the  woods,  and  fled  over  upland  and 
moor  and  lea  as  far  as  their  legs  would  carry  them. 
The  unbelievable  came  to  pass;  Hakon  lost  and  I  won. 
There  is  a  secret  horror  in  that  victory.  Thou  great 
God  of  Heaven!  there  rules,  then,  no  certain  law  on 
high,  that  all  things  must  obey  ?  The  right  carries 
with  it  no  conquering  might  ?  [With  a  change  of  tone, 
wildly, ,]  I  am  sick,  I  am  sick!  —  Wherefore  should 
not  the  right  be  on  my  side  ?  May  I  not  deem  that 
God  himself  would  assure  me  of  it,  since  he  let  me 
conquer?  [Brooding.]  The  possibilities  are  even;  — 
not  a  feather-weight  more  on  the  one  side  than  on 
the  other;  and  yet — [shakes  his  liead\ — yet  the  balance 
dips  on  Hakon's  part.  I  have  hatred  and  hot  desire  to 
cast  into  my  scale,  yet  the  balance  dips  on  Hakon's  part. 
When  the  thought  of  the  kingly  right  comes  over  me 
unawares,  'tis  ever  he,  not  I,  that  is  the  true  king.  When 
I  would  see  myself  as  the  true  king,  I  must  do  it  with 
forethought,  I  must  build  up  a  whole  fabric  of  subtleties, 
a  work  of  cunning;  I  must  hold  memories  aloof,  and 
take  faith  by  storm.  It  was  not  so  before.  What  has 
befallen  to  fill  me  so  full  of  doubt?  The  burning  of 
the  letter?  No — that  made  the  uncertainty  eternal, 
but  did  not  add  to  it.  Has  Hakon  done  any  great  and 
kingly  deed  in  these  later  days  ?  No,  his  greatest  deeds 
were  done  while  'I  least  believed  in  him.  [Seats  himself 
on  tfie  right.]  What  is  it?  Ha,  strange!  It  comes 
and  goes  like  a  marsh-fire;  it  dances  at  the  tip  of  my 
tongue,  as  when  one  has  lost  a  word  and  cannot  find  it. 

[Springs  up.]     Ha!    Now  I  have  it!    No !    Yes,  yes! 

Now  I  have  it ! — "  Norway  has  been  a  kingdom,  it 
shall  become  a  people;  all  shall  be  one,  and  all 
shall  feel  and  know  that  they  are  one!"     Since  Hakon 


act  iv]  THE   PRETENDERS  299 

spoke  those  madman's  words,  he  stands  ever  before  me 
as  the  rightful  king.  [Whispers  ivith  fixed  and  appre- 
hensive gaze.]  What  if  God's  calling  glimmered  through 
these  strange  words  ?  If  God  had  garnered  up  the 
thought  till  now,  and  would  now  strew  it  forth — and 
had  chosen  Hakon  for  his  sower  ? 

Paul  Flida. 

[Enters  from  the  back.]  My  lord  King,  I  have  tidings 
for  you. 

King  Skule. 
Tidings  ? 

Paul  Flida. 

A  man  who  comes  from  down  the  fiord  brings  news 
that  the  Birchlegs  in  Tunsberg  have  launched  their 
ships,  and  that  many  men  have  gathered  in  the  town 
in  these  last  days. 

King  Skule. 

Good,  we  will  go  forth  to  meet  them — to-morrow  or 
the  day  after. 

Paul  Flida. 

It  might  chance,  my  lord  King,  that  the  Birchlegs 
had  a  mind  to  meet  us  first. 

King  Skule. 
They  have  not  ships  enough  for  that,  nor  men. 

Paul  Flida. 

But  Arnbiorn  Jonsson  is  gathering  both  men  and 
ships,  all  round  in  Viken. 


300  THE  PRETENDERS  [act  iv 

King  Skule. 
The  better  for  us;   we  will  crush  them  at  one  blow, 
as  we  did  at  Laka. 

Paul  Flida. 
My  lord,  'tis  not  so  easy  to  crush  the  Birchlegs  twice 
following. 

King  Skule. 

And  wherefore  not? 

Paul  Flida. 

Because  Norway's  saga  tells  not  that  the  like  has  ever 
"  befallen.     Shall  I  send  forth  scouts  to  Hoved-isle? 

King  Skule. 
'Tis  needless;    the  night  is  dark,  and  there  is  a  sea- 
fog  to  boot. 

Paul  Flida. 

Well  well,  the  King  knows  best;  but  bethink  you, 
my  lord,  that  all  men  are  against  you  here  in  Viken. 
The  townsfolk  of  Oslo  hate  you,  and  should  the  Birch- 
legs  come,  they  will  make  common  cause  with  them. 

King  Skule. 

[With  animation.]  Paul  Flida,  were  it  not  possible 
that  I  could  win  over  the  men  of  Viken  to  my  side? 

Paul  Flida. 
[Looks  at  him  in  astonishment,  and  shakes  his  head.] 
No,  my  lord,  it  is  not  possible. 


act  iv]  THE  PRETENDERS  301 

•  King  Skule. 
And  wherefore  not? 

Paul  Flida. 
Why,  for  that  you  have  the  Tronders  on  your  side. 

King  Skule. 
I  will  have  both  the  Tronders  and  the  men  of  Viken! 

Paul  Flida. 
Nay,  my  lord,  that  cannot  be! 

King  Skule. 

Not  possible!  cannot  be!  And  wherefore — where- 
fore not? 

Paul  Flida. 

Because  the  man  of  Viken  is  the  man  of  Viken,  the 
Tronder  is  the  Trbnder;  because  so  it  has  always  been, 
and  no  saga  tells  of  a  lime  when  it  was  otherwise. 

King  Skule. 
Ay,  ay— you  are  right.     Go. 

Paul  Flida. 
And  send  forth  no  scouts? 

King  Skule. 

Wait  till  daybreak.  [Paul  Flida  goes.]  Norway's 
saga  tells  of  no  such  thing;  it  has  never  been  so  yet; 
Paul    Flida   answers   me  as   I   answered    Hakon.     Are 


302  THE  PRETENDERS  [act  iv 

there,  then,  upward  as  well  as  downward  steps  ?     Stands 
Hako'n  as  high  over  me  as  I  over  Paul  Flida?     Has 
Hakon  an  eye  for  unborn  thoughts,  that  is  lacking   in 
me?     Who  stood  so  high  as  Harold  Harfager    in  the 
days  when  every  headland  had  its  king,  and  he  said: 
Now  they  must  fall— hereafter  shall  there  be  but  one  ? 
He  threw  the  old  saga  to  the  winds,  and  made  a  new 
saga.     [A  pause;  he  paces  up  and  down  bst  in  thought; 
thin  he  stops.]     Can  one  man  take  God's  calling  from 
another,  as  he  takes  weapons  and  gold  from  his  fallen 
foe?     Can  a  Pretender  clothe  himself  in  a  king's  life- 
task,  as  he  can  put  on  the  kingly  mantle?     The  oak 
that  is  felled  to  be  a  ship's  timber,  can  it  say:    Nay,  I 
will  be  the  mast,  I  will  take  on  me  the  task  of  the  fir- 
tree,  point  upwards,  tall  and  shining,  bear  the  golden 
vane  at  my  top,  spread  bellying  white  sails  to  the  sun- 
shine, and  meet  the  eyes  of  all  men,  from  afar!— No, 
no,  thou  heavy  gnarled  oak-trunk,  thy  place  is  down 
in  the  keel;    there    shalt  thou  lie,  and  do  thy  work, 
unheard-of  and  unseen  by  those  aloft  in  the  daylight; 
it  is  thou  that  shalt  hinder  the  ship  from  being  whelmed 
in  the  storm;   while  the  mast  with  the  golden  vane  and 
the  bellying  sail  shall  bear  it  forward  toward  the  new, 
toward  the  unknown,  toward  alien  strands  and  the  saga 
of  the  future!     [Vehemently.]     Since  Ht-kon  uttered  his 
great  king-thought,  I  can  see  no  other  thought  in  the 
world  but  that  only.     If  I  cannot  take  it  and  act  it  out, 
I  see  no  other  thought  to  fight  for.     [Brooding.]     And 
can  I  not  make  it  mine?     If  I  cannot,  whence  comes 
my  great  love  for  Hakon's  thought  ? 

Jatgeir. 
[Enters  from   the    back.]     Forgive    my    coming,    lord 
King 


act  iv]  THE  PRETENDERS  303 

King  Skule. 
You  come  to  my  wish,  Skald ! 

Jatgeir. 

I  overheard  some  townsfolk  at  my  lodging  talking 
darkly  of 

King  Skule. 

Let  that  wait.  Tell  me,  Skald:  you  who  have  fared 
far  abroad  in  strange  lands,  have  you  ever  seen  a  woman 
love  another's  child  ?  Not  only  have  kindness  for  it— 
'tis  not  that  I  mean;  but  love  it,  love  it  with  the 
warmest  passion  of  her  soul. 

Jatgeir. 

That  do  only  those  women  who  have  no  child  of  their 
own  to  love. 

King  Skule. 
Only  those  women ? 

Jatgeir. 
And  chiefly  women  who  are  barren. 

King  Skule. 

Chiefly  the  barren ?     They  love  the  children  of 

others  with  all  their  warmest  passions? 

Jatgeir. 
That  will  oftentimes  befall. 


304  THE  PRETENDERS  [act  iv 

King  Skule. 

And  does  it  not  sometimes  befall  that  such  a  barren 
woman  will  slay  another's  child,  because  she  herself 
has  none? 

Jatgeir. 

Ay,  ay;   but  in  that  she  does  unwisely. 

King  Skule. 
Unwisely  ? 

Jatgeir. 
Ay,  for  she  gives  the  gift  of  sorrow  to  her  whose  child 
she  slays. 

King  Skule. 
Think  you  the  gift  of  sorrow  is  a  great  good  ?( 

Jatgeir. 
Yes,  lord. 

King  Skule. 
[Looks  fixedly  at  him.]  Methinks  there  are  two  men 
in  you,  Icelander.  When  you  sit  amid  the  household 
at  the  merry  feast,  you  draw  cloak  and  hood  over  all 
your  thoughts;  when  one  is  alone  with  you,  sometimes 
you  seem  to  be  of  those  among  whom  one  were  fain  to 
choose  his  friend.     How  comes  it  ? 

Jatgeir. 

When  you  go  to  swim  in  the  river,  my  lord,  you  would 
scarce  strip  you  where  the  people  pass  by  to  church;  you 
seek  a  sheltered  privacy. 


act  iv]  THE   PRETENDERS  305 

King  Skule. 
True,  true. 

Jatgeir. 

My  soul  has  the  like  shamefastness;    therefore  I  do 
not  strip  me  when  there  are  many  in  the  hall. 

King  Skule. 

Ha.     [A   short  pause.]     Tell  me,   Jatgeir,  how  come 
you  to  be  a  skald  ?     Who  taught  you  skaldcraft  ? 

Jatgeir. 
Skaldcraft  cannot  be  taught,  my  lord. 

King  Skule. 
Cannot  be  taught  ?     How  came  it  then  ? 

Jatgeir. 
The  gift  of  sorrow  came  to  me,  and  I  was  a  skald. 

King  Skule. 
Then  'tis  the  gift  of  sorrow  the  skald  has  need  of? 

Jatgeir. 

/  needed  sorrow;  others  there  may  be  who  need  faith 
or  joy— or  doubt 

King  Skule. 
Doubt  as  well  ? 

Jatgeir. 
Ay;    but  then  must  the  doubter  be  strong  and  sound. 


306  THE  PRETENDERS  [act  iv 

King  Skule. 
And  whom  call  you  the  unsound  doubter  ?     • 

Jatgeir. 
He  who  doubts  of  his  own  doubt. 

King  Skule.     . 
[Slowly.]    That,  methinks,  were  death. 

Jatgeir. 
'Tis  worse;   'tis  neither  day  nor  night. 

King  Skule. 

[Quickly,  as  if  shaking  off  his  thoughts.]  Where  are 
my  weapons?  I  will  fight  and  act-not  think.  What 
was  it  you  would  have  told  me  when  you  came  ? 

Jatgeir. 

'Twas  what  I  noted  in  my  lodging.  The  townsmen 
whisper  together  secretly,  and  laugh  mockingly,  and  ask 
if  we  be  well  assured  that  King  Hakon  is  in  the  west- 
land;  there  is  somewhat  they  are  in  glee  over. 

King  Skule 
They  are  men  of  Viken,  and  therefore  against  me. 

Jatgeir 

They  scoff  because  King  Olaf  s  shrine  could  not  be 
brought  out  to  the  mote-stead  when  you  were  chosen 
king;  they  say  it  boded  ill. 


act  iv]  THE   PRETENDERS  307 

King  Skule. 

When  next  I  come  to  Nidaros,  the  shrine  shall  out! 
It  shall  stand  under  the  open  sky,  though  I  should  have 
to  tear  down  St.  Olaf's  church  and  widen  out  the  mote- 
stead  over  the  spot  where  it  stood. 

Jatgeir. 

That  were  a  strong  deed;  but  I  shall  make  a  song  of 
it,  as  strong  as  the  deed  itself. 

King  Skule. 
Have  you  many  unmade  songs  within  you,  Jatgeir  ? 

Jatgeir. 

Nay,  but  many  unborn;  they  are  conceived  one  after 
the  other,  come  to  life,  and  are  brought  forth. 

King  Skule. 

And  if  I,  who  am  King  and  have  the  might,  if  I  were 
to  have  you  slain,  would  all  the  unborn  skald -thoughts 
you  bear  within  you  die  along  with  you  ? 

Jatgeir. 
My  lord,  it  is  a  great  sin  to  slay  a  fair  thought. 

King  Skule. 
I  ask  not  if  it  be  a  sin;  I  ask  if  it  be  possible! 

Jatgeir. 
I  know  not. 


308  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  iv 

King  Skule. 

Have  you  never  had  another  skald  for  your  friend, 
and  has  he  never  unfolded  to  you  a  great  and  noble 
song  he  thought  to  make  ? 

Jatgeir. 
Yes,  lord. 

King  Skule. 

Did  you  not  then  wish  that  you  could  slay  him,  to  take 
his  thought  and  make  the  song  yourself  ? 

Jatgeir. 

My  lord,  I  am  not  barren;  I  have  children  of  my  own; 
I  need  not  to  love  those  of  other  men.  [Goes. 

King  Skule. 

[After  a  pause.]     The  Icelander  is  in  very  deed  a  skald. 

He  speaks  God's  deepest  truth  and  knows  it  not / 

am  as  a  barren  woman.  Therefore  I  love  Hakon's 
kingly  thought-child,  love  it  with  the  warmest  passion 
of  my  soul.  Oh,  that  I  could  but  adopt1  it!  It  would 
die  in  my  hands.  Which  were  best,  that  it  should 
die  in  my  hands,  or  wax  great  in  his?  Should  I  ever 
have  peace  of  soul  if  that  came  to  pass  ?  Can  I  forego 
all?  Can  I  stand  by  and  see  Hakon  make  himself 
famous  for  all  time !  How  dead  and  empty  is  all  within 
me — and  around  me.  No  friend — ;  ah,  the  Icelander! 
[Goes  to  the  door  and  calls:]  Has  the  skald  gone  from 
the  palace? 

A  Guard. 

[Outside.]  No,  my  lord;  he  stands  in  the  outer  hall 
talking  with  the  watch. 

1  Kncesostte,  see  note,  p.  37. 


act  iv]  THE   PRETENDERS  309 

King  Skule. 

Bid  him  come  hither.  [Goes  forward  to  the  table; 
presently  Jatgeir  enters.]  I  cannot  sleep,  Jatgeir;  'tis 
all  my  great  kingly  thoughts  that  keep  me  awake,  you 
see. 

Jatgeir. 

'Tis  with  the  king's  thoughts  as  with  the  skald's,  I 
doubt  not.  They  fly  highest  and  grow  quickest  when 
there  is  night  and  stillness  around. 

King  Skule. 
Is  it  so  with  the  skald's  thoughts  too  ? 

Jatgeir. 

Ay,  lord;  no  song  is  born  by  daylight;  it  may  be 
written  down  in  the  sunshine;  but  it  makes  itself  in  the 
silent  night. 

King  Skule. 

Who  gave  you  the  gift  of  sorrow,  Jatgeir? 

Jatgeir. 
She  whom  I  loved. 

King  Skule. 
She  died,  then. 

r 

Jatgeir. 

No,  she  deceived  me. 

v 

King  Skule. 
And  then  you  became  a  skald  ?  / 


810  THE  PRETENDERS  [act  iv 

Jatgeir. 
Ay,  then  I  became  a  skald. 

King  Skule. 

[Seizes  him  by  the  arm.]    What  gift  do   I   need   to 
oecome  a  king  ? 

Jatgeir. 
Not  the  gift  of  doubt;  else  would  you  not  question  so. 

King  Skule. 
What  gift  do  I  need  ? 

Jatgeir. 
My  lord,  you   area  king. 

King  Skule. 
Have  y  o  u  at  all  times  full  faith  that  you  are  a  skald  ? 

Jatgeir. 

[Looks  silently  at  him  for  a  while,  and  asks.]    Have 
you  never  loved  ? 

King  Skule. 
Yes,  once— burningly,  blissfully,  and  in  sin. 

■>» 
Jatgeir. 

You  have  a  wife. 

King    Skule. 
>     Her  I  took  to  bear  me  sons. 


act  iv]  THE   PRETENDERS  311 

Jatgeir. 

But  you  have  a  daughter,  my  lord — a  gracious  and 
noble  daughter. 

King  Skule. 

Were  my  daughter  a  son,  I  would  not  ask  you  what 
gift  I  need.  [Vehemently.]  I  must  have  some  one  by 
me  who  sinks  his  own  will  utterly  in  mine — who  be- 
lieves in  me  unflinchingly,  who  will  cling  close  to  me  in 
good  hap  and  ill,  who  lives  only  to  shed  light  and  warmth 
over  my  life,  and  must  die  if  I  fall.  Give  me  counsel, 
Jatgeir  Skald! 

Jatgeir. 

Buy  yourself  a  dog,  my  lord. 

King  Skule. 
Would  no  man  suffice? 

Jatgeir. 
You  would  have  to  search  long  for  such  a  man. 

King  Skule. 

[Suddenly.]  Will  you  be  that  man  to  me,  Jatgeir  ? 
Will  you  be  a  son  to  me  ?  You  shall  have  Norway's 
crown  to  your  heritage — the  whole  land  shall  be  yours, 
if  you  will  be  a  son  to  me,  and  live  for  my  life-work, 
and  believe  in  me. 

Jatgeir. 

And  what  should  be  my  warranty  that  I  did  not 
feign ? 


312  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  iv 

King  Skule. 

Give  up  your  calling  in  life;   sing  no  more  songs,  and 
then  will  I  believe  you! 

Jatgeir. 
No,  lord — that  were  to  buy  the  crown  too  dear. 

King  Skule. 

Bethink  you  well— 'tis  greater  to  be  a  king  than  a 
skald. 

Jatgeir. 
Not  always. 

King  Skule. 
'Tis  but  your  unsung  songs  you  must  sacrifice! 

Jatgeir. 
Songs  unsung  are  ever  the  fairest. 

King  Skule. 

But  I  must — I    must    have  one  who  can  trust  in 
me!     Only  one!     I  feel  it — had  I  that  one,  I  were  saved ! 

Jatgeir. 
Trust  in  yourself  and  you  will  be  saved ! 

Paul  Flida. 

[Enters  hastily.]     King  Skule,  look  to  yourself!  Hakon 
Hakonsson  lies  off  Elgjarness  with  all  his  fleet! 

King  Skule. 
Otf  Elgjarness !     Then  he  is  close  at  hand. 


act  iv]  THE  PRETENDERS  313 

Jatgeir. 

Get  we  to  arms  then !  If  there  be  bloodshed  to-night, 
I  will  gladly  be  the  first  to  die  for  you ! 

King  Skule. 
You,  who  would  not  live  for  me! 

Jatgeir. 

A  man  can  die  for  another's  life-work;  but  if  he  go 
on  living,  he  must  live  for  his  own.  [Goes. 

Paul  Flida. 

[Impatiently.]  Your  commands,  my  lord !  The  Birch- 
legs  may  be  in  Oslo  this  very  hour. 

King  Skule. 

'Twere  best  if  we  could  fare  to  St.  Thomas  Beckett's 
grave;  he  has  helped  so  many  a  sorrowful  and  penitent 
soul. 

Paul  Flida. 

[More  forcibly.]  My  lord,  speak  not  so  wildly  now; 
I  tell  you,  the  Birchlegs  are  upon  us! 

King  Skule. 

Let  all  the  churches  be  opened,  that  we  may  betake 
us  thither  and  find  grace. 

Paul  Flida. 

You  can  crush  all  your  foemen  at  one  stroke,  and  yet 
would  betake  you  to  the  churches! 


t  \ 


314  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  iv 

King  Skule. 
Yes,  yes,  keep  all  the  churches  open! 

Paul  Flida. 
Be  sure  Hakon  will  break  sanctuary,  when  'tis  Var- 
bselgs  he  pursues. 

King  Skule. 
That  will  he  not;    God  will  shield  him  from  such  .a 
sin; — God  always  shields  Hakon. 

Paul  Flida. 

[In  deep  and  sorrowful  wrath.]    To  hear  you  speak 
thus,  a  man  could  not  but  ask:  Who  is  king  in  this  land  ? 

King  Skule. 

[Smiling   mournfully.]     Ay,   Paul    Flida,   that   is  the 
great  question :    Who    is  king  in  this  land  ?. 

Paul  Flida. 
[Imploringly.]     You   are  soul-sick  to-night,  my  lord; 
let  me  act  for  you. 

King  Skule. 
Ay,  ay,  do  so. 

Paul  Flida. 

[Going.]     First  will  I  break  down  all  the  bridges. 

King  Skule. 
Madman!    Stay '.—Break  down  all  the  bridges !    Know 
you  what  that  means?     I  have  assayed  it; — beware  of 
that! 


act  iv]  THE  PRETENDERS  315 

Paul  Flida. 
What  would  you  then,  my  lord  ? 

King  Skule. 
I  will  talk  with  Hakon.  ' 

Paul  Flida. 
He  will  answer  you  with  a  tongue  of  steel. 

King  Skule. 
Go,    go; — you  shall  learn  my  will  anon. 

Paul  Flida. 

Every  moment  is  precious!  [Seizes  his  hand.]  King 
Skule,  let  us  break  down  all  the  bridges,  fight  like 
Wolves,1  and  trust  in  Heaven! 

King  Skule. 

[Softly.]     Heaven  trusts  not  in  me;    I  dare  not  trust       W\ 
in  Heaven. 

Paul  Flida. 

Short  has  been  the  saga  of  the  Varbaelgs: 

[Goes  out  by  the  back. 

King  Skule. 

A  hundred  cunning  heads,  a  thousand  mighty  arms, 
are  at  my  beck;  but  not  a  single  loving,  trusting  heart. 
That  is  kingly  beggary;   no  more,  no  less. 

1  Varger,  the  first  part  of  the  word  Vhrbcelg. 


316  THE  PRETENDERS  [act  iv 

BArd  Bratte. 

[From   the   back.]    Two   wayfarers   from   afar   stand 
without,  praying  to  have  speech  with  you  my  lord. 
■> 

King  Skule. 
Who  are  they? 

Bard  Bratte. 
A  woman  and  a  priest. 

King  Skule. 

Let  the  woman  and  the  priest  approach. 

[BArd  goes;  King  Skule  seats  himself,  musing,  on 
the  right;  presently  there  enters  a  black-robed 
woman;  she  wears  a  long  cloak,  a  hood,  and  a 
thick  veil,  which  conceals  her  face;  a  priest  follows 
her,  and  remains  standing  by  the  door. 

King  Skule. 
Who  are  you  ? 

The  Woman. 
One  you  have  loved. 

King  Skule. 

[Shaking    his    head.]     There    lives    no   one   who    re- 
members that  I  have  loved.     Who  are  you,  I  ask? 

The  Woman. 
One  who  loves  you. 

King  Skule. 
Then  are  you  surely  one  of  the  dead. 


act  iv]  THE   PRETENDERS  317 

The  Woman. 

[Comes  close  to  him  and  says  softly  and  passionately.] 
Skule  Bardsson! 

King  Skule. 
[Rises  with  a  cry.]     Ingeborg! 

Ingeborg. 
Do  you  know  me  now,  Skule? 

King  Skule. 
Ingeborg, — Ingeborg ! 

Ingeborg. 

Oh,  let  me  look  at  you — look  long  at  you,  so  long! 
[Seizes  his  hands;  a  pause.]  You  fair,  you  deeply  loved, 
you  faithless  man! 

King  Skule. 

Take  off  that  veil;  look  at  me  with  the  eyes  that 
once  were  as  clear  and  blue  as  the  sky. 

Ingeborg. 

These  eyes  have  been  but  a  rain-clouded  sky  for 
twenty  years;  you  would  not  know  them  again,  and  you 
shall  never  see  them  more. 

King  Skule. 
But  your  voice  is  fresh  and  soft  and  young  as  ever! 

Ingeborg. 

I  have  used  it  only  to  whisper  your  name,  to  im- 
print your  greatness  in  a  young  heart,  and  to  pray  to 


318  THE  PRETENDERS  [act  iv 

the  sinners'  God  for  grace  toward  us  twain,  who  have 
loved  in  sin. 

King  Skule. 
You  have  done  that  ? 

Ingeborg. 

I  have  been  silent  save  to  speak  loving  words  of 
you; — therefore  has  my  voice  remained  fresh  and  soft 
and  young. 

King  Skule. 

There  lies  a  life-time  between.  Every  fair  memory 
from  those  days  have  I  wasted  and  let  slip 

Ingeborg. 
It  was  your  right. 

King  Skule. 

And  meantime  you,  Ingeborg,  loving,  faithful 
woman,  have  dwelt  there  in  the  north,  guarding  and 
treasuring  your  memories,  in  ice-cold  loneliness! 

Ingeborg. 
It  was  my  happiness. 

King  Skule. 

And  I  could  give  you  up  to  win  might  and  riches! 
With  you  at  my  side,  as  my  wife,  I  had  found  it  easier 
to  be  a  king. 

Ingeborg. 

God  has  been  good  to  me  in  willing  it  otherwise.  A 
soul  like  mine  had  need  of  a  great  sin,  to  arouse  it  to 
remorse  and  expiation. 


act  iv]  THE   PRETENDERS  319 

King  Skule. 
And  now  you  come ? 

Ingeborg. 
As  Andres  Skialdarband's  widow. 

King  Skule. 
Your  husband  is  dead! 

Ingeborg. 
On  the  way  from  Jerusalem. 

King  Skule. 
Then  has  he  atoned  for  the  slaying  of  Vegard. 

Ingeborg. 

'Twas  not  therefore  that  my  noble  husband  took  the 
Cross. 

King  Skule. 
Not  therefore? 

Ingeborg. 

No;  it  was  m  y  sin  he  took  upon  his  strong,  loving 
shoulders;  'twas  that  he  went  to  wash  away  in  Jor- 
dan stream;    'twas  for   that   he  bled. 

King  Skule. 
[Softly.]     Then  he  knew  all. 

Ingeborg. 

From  the  first.  And  Bishop  Nicholas  knew  it,  for 
to  him  I  confessed.  And  there  was  one  other  man  that 
came  to  know  it,  though  how  I  cannot  guess. 


320  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  iv 

King  Skule. 
Who? 

Ingeborg. 
Vegard  Vaeradal. 

King  Skule. 
v     Vegard ! 

Ingeborg. 

He  whispered  a  mocking  word  of  me  into  my  hus- 
band's ear;  and  thereupon  Andres  Skialdarband  drew 
his  sword,  and  slew  him  on  the  spot. 

King  Skule. 

He  kept  ward  over  her  whom  I  betrayed  and  forgot. 
— And  wherefore  seek  you  me  now? 

Ingeborg. 
To  bring  you  the  last  sacrifice. 

King  Skule. 
What  mean  you  ? 

Ingeborg. 

[Points  to  the  Priest  who  stands  by  the  door.]  Look 
at  him! — Peter,  my  son,  come  hither! 

King  Skule. 
Your  son ! 

Ingeborg. 
And   yours,   King  Skule ! 


V 


act  iv]  THE  PRETENDERS  321 

King  Skule. 

[Half  bewildered.]     Ingeborg ! 

[Peter  approaches  in  silent  emotion,   and  throws 
himself  before  King  Skule. 

Ingeborg. 

Take  him!  For  twenty  years  has  he  been  the  light 
and  comfort  of  my  life. — Now  are  you  King  of  Norway; 
the  King's  son  must  enter  on  his  heritage;  I  have  no 
longer  any  right  to  him. 

King  Skule. 

[Raises  him  up,  in  a  storm  of  joy.]  Here,  to  my  heart, 
you  whom  I  have  yearned  for  so  burningly!  [Presses 
him  in  his  arms,  lets  him  go,  looks  at  him,  and  embraces 
him  again.]  My  son !  My  son !  I  have  a  son !  Ha-ha- 
ha!  who  can  stand  against  me  now?  [Goes  over  to 
Ingeborg  and  seizes  her  hand.]  And  you,  you  give 
him  to  me,  Ingeborg!  You  take  not  back  your  word? 
You  give  him  to  me  indeed  ? 

Ingeborg. 

Heavy  is  the  sacrifice,  and  scarce  had  I  strength  to 
make  it,  but  that  Bishop  Nicholas  sent  him  to  me, 
bearing  a  letter  with  tidings  of  Andres  Skialdarband's 
death.  'Twas  the  Bishop  that  laid  on  me  the  heavy 
sacrifice,  to  atone  for  all  my  sin. 

King  Skule. 

Then  is  the  sin  blotted  out,  and  henceforth  he  is  mine 
alone;    is  it  not  so,  mine  alone? 


322  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  iv 

Ingeborg. 
Yes;    but  one  promise  I  crave  of  you. 

King  Skule. 
Heaven  and  earth,  crave  all  you  will! 

Ingeborg. 

He  is  pure  as  a  lamb  of  God,  as  I  now  give  him  into 
your  hands.  'Tis  a  perilous  path  that  leads  up  to  the 
throne;  let  him  not  take  hurt  to  his  soul.  Hear  you, 
King  Skule:    let  not  my  child  take  hurt  to  his  soul! 

King  Skule. 
That  I  promise  and  swear  to  you! 

Ingeborg. 

[Seizes  his  arm.]  From  the  moment  you  mark  that 
his  soul  suffers  harm,  let  him  rather  die! 

King  Skule. 
Rather  die!     I  promise  and  swear  it! 

Ingeborg. 

Then  shall  I  be  of  good  cheer  as  I  go  back  to  Halo- 
galand. 

King  Skule. 

Ay,  you  may  be  of  good  cheer. 

Ingeborg.- 

There  will  I  repent  and  pray,  till  the  Lord  calls  me. 
And  when  we  meet  before  God,  he  shall  come  back  to 
me  pure  and  blameless,- 


act  iv]  THE   PRETENDERS  823 

King  Skule. 

Pure  and  blameless!  [Turning  to  Peter.]  Let  me 
look  at  you!  Ay,  your  mother's  features  and  mine; 
you  are  he  for  whom  I  have  longed  so  sorely. 

Peter. 

My  father,  my  great,  noble  fathep!  Let  me  live  and 
fight  for  you!  Let  your  cause  be  mine;  and  be  your 
cause  what  it  may— I  know  that  I  am  fighting  for  the 
right ! 

King  Skule. 

[With  aery  of  joy.]    You  trust  in  me !    You  trust  in  me ! 

Peter. 
Immovably ! 

King  Skule. 

Then  all  is  well;  then  am  I  surely  saved!  Listen: 
you  shall  cast  off  the  cowl;  the  Archbishop  shall  loose 
you  from  your  vows;  the  King's  son  shall  wield  the 
sword,  shall  go  forward  unwavering  to  might  and  honour. 

Peter. 

Together  with  you,  my  noble  father'  We  will  go 
together ! 

King  Skule. 

[Drawing  Hie  youth  close  up  to  himself.]  Ay,  together, 
we  two  alone! 

Ingeborg. 

[To  herself]  To  love,  to  sacrifice  all  and  be  for- 
gotten, that  is  my  saga.1         [Goes  quietly  out  by  the  back. 

1  As  to  the  earlier  text  of  this  scene,  see  Brandes'  Ibsen  and  Bjdrnaon 
(Heinemann,  1899),  p.  29. 


324  THE  PRETENDERS  [act  iv 

King  Skule. 

Now  shall  a  great  king's-work  be  done  in  Norway! 
Listen,  Peter,  my  son!  We  will  awaken  the  whole 
people,  and  gather  it  into  one;  the  man  of  Viken  and 
the  Tronder,  the  Halogalander  and  the  Agdeman,  the 
Uplander  and  the  Sogndaleman,  all  shall  be  o  n  e  great 
family!  Then  shall  you  see  how  the  land  will  come  to 
flourish ! 

Peter. 

What  a  great  and  dizzy  thought 

King  Skule. 
Do  you  grasp  it  ? 

Peter. 

Yes — yes ! — Clearly ! 

King  Skule 
And  have  you  faith  in  it  ? 

Peter. 
Yes,  yes;  for  I  have  faith  in  you! 

King  Skule. 
[Wildly.]     Hakon  Hakonsson  must  die. 

Peter. 
If  you  will  it,  then  it  is  right  that  he  die. 

King  Skule. 
'Twill  cost  blood;    but  that  we  cannot  heed! 


act  iv]  THE  PRETENDERS  325 

Peter. 
The  blood  is  not  wasted  that  flows  in  your  cause. 

King  Skule. 

All  the  might  shall  be  yours  when  I  hdve  built  up 
the  kingdom.  You  shall  sit  on  the  throne  with  the 
circlet  on  your  brow,  with  the  purple  mantle  flowing 
wide  over  your  shoulders;    all  men  in  the  land  shall 

bow  before  you [The  sounds  of  distant  horns1  are 

heard.]     Ha!     what    was    that?     [With    a    cry.]     The 

Birchleg  host!     What  was  it  Paul  Flida  said ? 

[Rushes  towards  the  back. 

Paul  Flida. 
[Enters  and  cries.]     The  hour  is  upon  us,  King  Skule! 

King  Skule. 

[Bewildered.]  The  Birchlegs!  King  Hakon's  host! 
Where  are  they? 

Paul  Flida. 

They  are  swarming  in  thousands  down  over  the 
Ekeberg. 

King  Skule. 

Sound  the  call  to  arms!  Sound,  sound !  Give  counsel; 
where  shall  we  meet  them? 

Paul  Flida. 

All  the  churches  stand  open  for  us. 

1  Lur,  the  long  wooden  horn  still  used  among  the  mountains  in 
Norway. 


326  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  iv 

King  Skule. 
'Tis  of  the  Birchlegs  I  ask ? 

Paul  Flida. 
For  them  all  the  bridges  stand  open. 

King  Skule. 
Unhappy  man,  what  have  you  done! 

Paul  Flida. 
Obeyed  my  King! 

King  Skule. 

My  son!     My  son!     Woe  is  me;    I  have  lost  your 
v  kingdom! 

Peter. 

No,  you  will  conquer!  So  great  a  king's-thought 
cannot  die! 

King  Skule. 

Peace,  peace!  [Horns  and  shouts  are  heard,  nearer 
at  hand.]  To  horse!  To  arms!  More  is  here  at  stake 
than  the  life  and  death  of  men! 

[Rushes  out  by  the  back;    tlie  others  follow  him. 


street  in  Oslo.  On  each  side,  low  wooden  houses, 
with  porcfies.  At  the  back,  St.  Hallvard's  church- 
yard, enclosed  by  a  high  wall  with  a  gate.  On  tlie 
left,  at  (lie  end  of  the  wall,  is  seen  the  church,  the 
chief  portal  of  which  stands  open.  It  is  still  night; 
after  a  little,  the  day  begins  to  dawn.  The  alarm- 
bell  is  ringing:  far  away  on  the  right  are  heard 
battle-shouts  and  confused  noises. 


act  iv]  THE  PRETENDERS  327 

King  Skule's  Hornblower. 

[Enters  from  tlie  right,  blows  his  horn,  and  sfwuts.] 
To  arms!     To  arms,  all  King  Skule's  men! 

[Blows  his  horn  again,  and  proceeds  on  his  way; 
presently  he  is  Iward  bloiving  and  shouting  in  the 
next  street. 

A  Woman. 

[Appears  at  a  house  door  on  the  right.]  Great  God 
of  mercy,  what  is  astir  ? 

A  Townsman. 

[Who  has  come  out,  )wlf  dressed,  from  a  house  on  the 
other  side  of  the  street.]  The  Birchlegs  are  in  the  town ! 
Now  will  Skule  have  his  reward  for  all  his  misdeeds. 

One  of  Skule's  Men. 

[Enters  with  some  others,  bearing  tlieir  cloaks  and 
weapons  on  their  arms,  from  a  side  street  on  tlie  left.] 
Where  are  the  Birchlegs? 

Another  of  Skule's  Men. 
[Coming  from  a  house  on  the  right.]     I  know  not! 

The  First. 

Hist!  Listen! — They  must  be  down  at  the  Geite- 
bridge! 

The  Second. 

Off  to  the  Geite-bridge  then! 

[They  all  rush  out  to  the  right;  a  townsman  comes 
running  in  from  tlie  same  side. 


328  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  iv 

The  First  Townsman, 
Hey,  neighbour,  whence  come  you  ? 

The  Second  Townsman. 
From  down  at  the  Lo-river;   there's  ugly  work  there. 

The  Woman. 

St.  Olaf  and  St.  Hallvard !     Is  it  the  Birchlegs,  or  who 
is  it? 

The  Second  Townsman. 

Who  else  but  the  Birchlegs!     King  Hakon  is  with 
v  them;    the  whole  fleet  is  laying  in  to  the  wharves;    but 
he  himself  landed  with  his  best  men  out  at  Ekeberg. 

The  First  Townsman. 
Then  will  he  take  revenge  for  the  slaughter  at  Laka! 

The  Second  Townsman. 
Ay,  be  sure  of  that. 

The  First  Townsman. 
See,  see!     The  Varbaelgs  are  flying  already! 

A  troop  o/"Skule's  men  enter  in  full  flight,  from  the 
right. 

One  of  Them. 

Into  the  church!     None  can  stand  against  the  Birch- 
legs as  they  lay  about  them  to-night. 

[The  troop  rushes  into  the  church  and  bars  the  door 
on  the  inside. 


act  iv]  THE   PRETENDERS  329 

The  Second  Townsman. 

[Looking  out  to  the  right.]     I  see  a  standard  far  down 
the  street;   it  must  be  King  Hakon's. 

The  First  Townsman. 
See,  see,  how  the  Varbaelgs  are  running! 

A  second  troop  enters  from  the  right. 

One  of  the  Fugitives. 

Let  us  take  to  the  church  and  pray  for  grace. 

[They  rush  at  the  door. 

Several  VArb^lgs. 
'Tis  barred!  'tis  barred! 

The  First. 
Up  over  Martestokke  then! 

Another. 
Where  is  King  Skule? 

The  First. 

I    know   not.     Away!    yonder    I    see   the   Birchlegs 
standard!  [They  flee  past  tlie  church,  out  to  the  left. 

HAkon  enters  from  tlie  right  with  his  Standard-bearer, 
Gregorius  Jonsson,  Dagfinn  the  Peasant,  and 
several  other  men. 

Dagfinn. 

Hark   to   the  war-cry!     Skule  is  gathering  his  men 
behind  the  churchyard. 


330  THE  PRETENDERS  [act  iv 

An  Old  Townsman. 

[Calls  from  his  porch,  to  Hakon.]  Take  heed  for 
yourself,  dear  my  lord;  the  Varbaelgs  are  fierce,  now 
they  are  fighting  for  life. 

Hakon. 

Is  it  you,  old  Guthorm  Erlendsson  ?  You  have  fought 
both  for  my  father  and  for  my  grandfather. 

The  Townsman. 
Would  to  God  I  could  fight  for  you  as  well. 

Hakon. 

For  that  you  are  too  old,  and  there  is  no  need;  men 
pour  in  upon  me  from  all  sides. 

Dagfinn. 

[Pointing  off  over  the  wall  to  the  right.]  There  comes 
the  Duke's  standard! 

Gregorius  Jonsson. 
The  Duke  himself!     He  rides  his  white  war-horse. 

Dagfinn. 
"We  must  hinder  his  passage  through  the  gate  here! 

Hakon. 

Wind  the  horn,  wind  the  horn!  [The  Hornblower 
does  so.]  You  blew  better,  you  whelp,  when  you  blew 
for  money  on  Bergen  wharf. 

[The  Hornblower  winds  another  blast,  louder  than 
the  first;   many  men  comx  rushing  in. 


act  iv]  THE   PRETENDERS  331 

A  VArbjClg. 

[From  the  right,  fleeing  towards  tJie  church,  pursued  by 
a  Birchleg.]     Spare  my  life!     Spare  my  life! 

The  Birchleg. 

Not  though  you  sat  on  the  altar!  [Cuts  him  down.] 
'Tis  a  costly  cloak  you  wear,  methinks  'twill  fit  me  well. 
[Is  about  to  take  the  cloak,  but  utters  a  cry  and  casts  away 
his  sword.]  My  lord  King!  Not  another  stroke  will  I 
strike  for  you 

Dag  finn. 

You  say  that  in  such  an  hour  as  this? 

The  Birchleg. 
Not  another  stroke! 

Dag  finn. 
[Cuts  him  down.]     Well,  you  may  e'en  let  it  alone. 

The  Birchleg. 

[Pointing  to  the  dead  V&rbalg.]  Methought  I  had 
done  enough  when  I  slew  my  own  brother.  [Dies. 


HAkon. 


His  brother! 


Dagfinn. 
What!  [Cwcs  up  to  ttie  V&rbalo's  body. 


HAkon. 


Is  it  true? 


332  THE  PRETENDERS  iact  iv 

Dagfinn. 
I  fear  me  it  is. 

HIkon. 

[Shaken.]  Here  see  we  what  a  war  we  are  waging. 
Brother  against  brother,  father  against  son; — by  God 
Almighty,  this  must  have  an  end! 

Gregorius  Jonsson. 

There  comes  the  Duke,  in  full  fight  with  Earl  Knut's 
troop ! 

Dagfinn. 

Bar  the  gate  against  him,  king's  men! 

On  the  other  side  of  the  wall,  the  combatants  come  in  sight. 
The  Varbalgs  are  forcing  their  way  towards  the  left, 
driving  the  Birchlegs  back,  foot  by  foot.  King  Skule 
rides  his  white  war-horse,  with  his  sword  drawn. 
.  Peter  walks  at  his  side,  holding  the  horse's  bridle, 
and  with  his  left  hand  uplifting  a  crucifix.  Paul 
Flida  bears  Skule's  standard,  which  is  blue,  with 
a  golden  lion  rampant,  without  the  axe.1 

King  Skule. 

Cut  them  down!  Spare  no  man!  There  is  come  a 
new  heir2  to  the  throne  of  Norway! 

The  Birchlegs. 
A  new  heir,  said  he  ? 

1  The  arms  of  Norway  consist  of  a  lion  rampant,  holding  an  axe. 
*  Et  nyt  kongs-emne. 


act  iv]  THE  PRETENDERS  333 

HAkon. 

Skule  Bardsson,  let  us  share  the  kingdom! 

King  Skule. 
All  or  nought! 

HAkon. 
Think  of  the  Queen,  your  daughter! 

King  Skule. 
I  have  a  son,  I  have  a  son!     I  think  of  none  but  him! 

HAkon. 
I  too  have  a  son; — if  I  fall  the  kingdom  will  be  his! 

King  Skule. 

Slay  the  King-child,  wherever  you  find  it!  Slay  it  on 
the  throne;  slay  it  at  the  altar;  slay  it — slay  it  in  the 
Queen's  arms! 

HAkon. 

There  did  you  utter  your  own  doom' 

King  Skule. 

[Slashing  about  him.]  Slay,  slay  without  mercy! 
King  Skule  has  a  son!     Slay,  slay! 

[The  fighting  gradually  passes  away  to  tfie  left. 

Gregorius  Jonsson. 
The  Varbselgs  are  hewing  their  way  through! 

Dagfinn. 
Ay,  but  only  to  flee. 


334  THE  PRETENDERS  [act  iv 

Gregorius  Jonsson. 

Yes,  by  Heaven,— the  other  gate  stands  open;  they 
are  fleeing  already! 

Dagfinn. 

Up  towards  Martestokke.  [Calls  out.]  After  them, 
after  them,  Earl  Knut!  Take  vengeance  for  the  slaugh- 
ter at  Laka! 

Hakon. 

You  heard  it:  he  proclaimed  my  child  an  outlaw — 
my  innocent  child,  Norway's  chosen  king  after  me! 

The  King's  Men. 
Ay,  ay,  we  heard  it! 

Hakon. 
And  what  is  the  punishment  for  such  a  crime  ? 

The  Men. 
Death! 

Hakon. 

Then  must  he  die!  [Raises  his  hand  to  make  oath.] 
Here  I  swear  it:  Skule  Bardsson  shall  die,  wherever  he 
be  met  on  unconsecrated  ground! 


Dagfinn. 
'Tis  every  true  man's  duty  to  slay  him. 

A  Birchleg. 
[From  the  left.]     Duke  Skule  has  taken  to  flight! 


act  iv]  THE  PRETENDERS  335 

The  Townsfolk. 
The  Birchlegs  have  conquered! 

HAkon. 
What  way  ? 

The  Birchleg. 

Past  Martestokke,  up  towards  Eidsvold;  most  of  them 
had  horses  waiting  up  in  the  streets,  else  had  not  one 
escaped  with  his  life. 

HAkon. 

Thanks  be  to  God  that  has  helped  us  yet  again !  Now 
may  the  Queen  safely  come  ashore  from  the  fleet. 

Gregorius  Jonsson. 

[Points  of  to  tlie  rigfd.]  She  has  already  landed,  my 
lord;   there  she  comes! 

HAkon. 

[To  tlwse  nearest  him.]  The  heaviest  task  is  yet  be- 
fore me;  she  is  a  loving  daughter; — listen — no  word  to 
her  of  the  danger  that  threatens  her  child.  Swear  to 
me,  one  and  all,  to  keep  ward  over  your  King's  son;  but 
let  her  know  nothing. 

The  Men. 

[Softly.]     We  swear  it. 

Margrete. 

[Enters,  urith  ladies  and  attendants,  from  the  right.] 
Hakon,  my  husband!  Heaven  has  shielded  you!  you 
have  conquered  and  are  unhurt! 


336  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  iv 

Hakon. 
Yes,  I  have  conquered.     Where  is  the  child  ? 

Margrete. 
On  board  the  King's  ship,  in  the  hands  of  trusty  men. 

Hakon. 

Go  more  of  you  thither.  [Some  of  the  men  go. 

Margrete. 
Hakon,  where  is — Duke  Skule? 

Hakon. 
He  has  made  for  the  Uplands. 

Margrete. 

He  lives,  then! — My  husband,  may  I  thank  God  that 
he  lives? 

Hakon. 

[In  painful  agitation.]  Hear  me,  Margrete:  you  have 
been  a  faithful  wife  to  me,  you  have  followed  me  through 
good  hap  and  ill,  you  have  been  unspeakably  rich  in 
love; — now  must  I  cause  you  a  heavy  sorrow;  I  am 
loath  to  do  it;    but  I  am  King,  therefore  must  I 

Margrete. 
[In  suspense.]     Has  it  to  do  with — the  Duke  ? 

Hakon. 

Yes.  No  bitterer  lot  could  befall  me  than  to  live  my 
life  far  from  you;    but  if  you  think  it  must  be  so  after 


act  iv]  THE   PRETENDERS  337 

what  I  now  tell  you — if  you  feel  that  you  can  no  longer 
sit  by  my  side,  no  longer  look  at  me  without  turning  pale 
— well,  we  must  even  part — live  each  alone — and  I  shall 
not  blame  you  for  it. 

Margrete. 

Part  from  you !     How  can  you  think  such  a  thought  ? 
Give  me  your  hand ! 

HAkon. 
Touch  it  not! — It  has  even  now  been  lifted  in  oath 


Margrete. 
In  oath? 

HAkon. 
An  oath  that  set  its  sacred  seal  upon  a  death-warrant. 

Margrete. 

[With  a  shriek.]     My  father!     Oh,  my  father! 

[  Totters;  two  women  rush  forward  to  support  her. 

HAkon. 

Yes,  Margrete — his  King  has  doomed  your  father  to 
death. 

Margrete. 

Then  well  I  know  he  has  committed  a  greater  crime 
than  when  he  took  the  kingly  title. 

HAkon. 

That  has  he; — and  now,  if  you  feel  that  we  must  part, 
so  let  it  be. 


338  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  iv 

Margrete. 

[Coming  close  to  him,  firmly.]     We  can  never  part! 
I  am  your  wife,  nought  else  in  the  world  but  your  wife! 

Hakon. 

Are  you  strong  enough?     Did  you  hear  and  under- 
stand all  ?     I  have  doomed  your  father. 

Margrete. 

I    heard    and    understood.     You    have    doomed    my 
father. 

Hakon. 
And  you  ask  not  to  know  what  was  his  crime  ? 

Margrete. 
'Tis  enough  that   you   know  it. 

Hakon. 
But  it  was  to  death  that  I  doomed  him! 

Margrete. 

[Kneels  before  the  King,  and  kisses  his  hand.]     My 
husband  and  noble  lord,  your  doom  is  just! 


ACT  FIFTH 

A  room  in  the  palace  at  Nidaros.  The  entrance  door  is 
on  tJw  right;  in  front,  on  the  same  side,  a  window; 
to  the  left  a  smaller  door.  It  is  after  night-fall. 
Paul  Flida,  BArd  Bratte,  and  several  of  King 
Skule's  principal  followers  are  standing  at  the  win- 
dow and  looking  upivard. 

A  Man-at-Arms. 
How  red  it  glows! 

A  Second. 
It  stretches  over  half  the  sky,  like  a  flaming  sword. 

BArd  Bratte. 
Holy  King  Olaf,  what  bodes  such  a  sign  of  dread  ? 

An  Old  VArb^elg. 
Assuredly  it  bodes  a  great  chief's  death. 

Paul  Flida. 

Hakon's  death,  my  good  Varbselgs.  He  is  lying  out 
in  the  fiord  with  his  fleet;  we  may  look  for  him  in  the 
town  to-night.     This  time,  'tis  our  turn  to  conquer! 

BArd  Bratte. 

Trust  not  to  that;  there  is  little  heart  in  the  host  now. 

339 


340  THE  PRETENDERS  [act  v 

The  Old  V1rb,elg. 

And  reason  enough,  in  sooth;  ever  since  the  flight 
from  Oslo  has  King  Skule  shut  himself  in,  and  will 
neither  see  nor  speak  with  his  men. 

The  First  Man-at-Arms. 

There  are  those  in  the  town  who  know  not  whether 
to  believe  him  alive  or  dead. 

Paul  Flida. 

The  King  must  out,  however  sick  he  may  be.  Speak 
to  him,  Bard  Bratte— the  safety  of  all  is  at  stake. 

Bard  Bratte. 
It  avails  not;   I  have  spoken  to  him  already. 

Paul  Flida. 

Then  must  I  try  what  I  can  do.  [Goes  to  the  door  on 
the  left,  and  knocks.]  My  lord  King,  you  must  take  the 
helm  in  your  own  hands;  things  can  no  longer  go  on  in 
this  fashion. 

King  Skule. 

[Within.]     I  am  sick,  Paul  Flida. 

Paul  Flida. 

What  else  can  you  look  for  ?  You  have  eaten  nought 
these  two  days;  you  must  nourish  and  strengthen  you 

King  Skule. 
I  am  sick. 


actv]  THE   PRETENDERS  341 

Paul  Flida. 

By  the  Almighty,  'tis  no  time  for  sickness.  King 
Hakon  lies  out  in  the  fiord,  and  may  at  any  time  be  upon 
us  here  in  Nidaros. 

King  Skule. 

Strike  him  down  for  me!  Slay  him  and  the  King- 
child. 

Paul  Flida. 
You  must  be  with  us,  my  lord! 

King  Skule. 

No,  no,  no, — you  are  surest  of  fortune  and  victory 
when  I  am  not  there. 

Peter. 

[Enters  from  the  right;  he  is  in  armour.]  The  towns- 
folk are  ill  at  ease;  they  flock  together  in  great  masses 
before  the  palace. 

BArd  Bratte. 

Unless  the  King  speak  to  them,  they  will  desert  him 
in  the  hour  of  need. 

Peter. 

Then  must  he  speak  to  them.  [At  the  door  on  the 
left.]  Father!  The  Tronders,  your  trustiest  subjects, 
will  fall  away  from  you  if  you  give  them  not  courage. 

King  Skule. 
What  said  the  skald  ? 


342  THE  PRETENDERS  [act  v 

Peter. 


s 

The  skald  ? 


King  Skule. 


The  skald  who  died  for  my  sake  at  Oslo.     A  man  can- 
not give  what  he  himself  does  not  possess,  he  said. 

Peter. 
Then  neither  can  you  give  away  the  kingdom;   for  it 
is  mine  after  you! 

King  Skule. 
Now  I  will  come! 

Paul  Flida. 
God  be  praised. 

King  Skule. 
[Comes forward  in  the  doorway;  he  is  pale  and  haggard; 
his  hair  has  grown  very  grey.]  You  shall  not  look  at  me! 
I  will  not  have  you  look  at  me  now  that  I  am  sick!  [Goes 
up  to  Peter.]  Take  from  you  the  kingdom,  you  say  ? 
Great  God  in  heaven,  what  was  I  about  to  do! 

Peter. 
Oh,  forgive  me;— I  know  that  what  you  do  is  ever 
I  the  right. 

King  Skule. 
No,  no,  not  hitherto;    but  now  I  will  be  strong  and 
sound — I  will  act! 

Loud  Shouts. 
[Witlwut,  on  the  right]     King  Skule!     King  Skule! 


actv]  THE   PRETENDERS  343 

King  Skule. 
What  is  that  ? 

Bard  Bratte. 

[At  tlie  windotv.]  The  townsmen  are  flocking  to- 
gether; the  whole  courtyard  is  full  of  people; — you  must 
speak  to  them. 

King  Skule. 
Do  I  look  like  a  king  ?     Can  I  speak  now  ? 

Peter. 
You  must,  my  noble  father! 

King  Skule. 

Well,  be  it  so.  [Goes  to  the  window  and  draws  the 
curtain  aside,  but  lets  it  go  quickly  and  starts  back  in 
terror.]     There  hangs  the  flaming  sword  over  me  again! 

Paul  Flida. 
It  bodes  that  the  sword  of  victory  is  drawn  for  you. 

King  Skule. 

Ah,  were  it  but  so !  [Goes  to  the  window  and  speaks  out.] 
Tronders,  what  would  you  ?     Here  stands  your  King. 

A  Townsman. 

[Without.]  Leave  the  town !  The  Birchlegs  will  burn 
and  slay  if  they  find  you  here. 

King  Skule. 

We  must  all  hold  together.  I  have  been  a  gracious 
King  to  you;   I  have  craved  but  small  war-tax 


344  THE  PRETENDERS  [act  v 

A  Man's  Voice. 

[Down  in  the  crowd.]     What  call  you  all  the  blood, 
then,  that  flowed  at  Laka  and  Oslo  ? 

A  Woman. 
Give  me  my  betrothed  again! 

A  Boy. 
Give  me  my  father  and  my  brother! 

Another  Woman. 
Give  me  my  three  sons,  King  Skule! 

A  Man. 

He  is  no  King;    homage  has  not  been  done  him  on 
St.  Olaf's  shrine! 

Many  Voices. 

No,  no — no  homage  has  been  done  him  on  St.  Olaf's 
shrine!     He  is  no  King! 

King  Skule. 

[Shrinks  behind  the  curtain.]     No  homage !     No 

king! 

Paul  Flida. 

'Twas   a   dire   mischance    that    the    shrine    was    not 
brought  forth  when  you  were  chosen. 

BArd  Bratte. 

Should  the  townsfolk  desert  us,  we  cannot  hold  Nida- 
ros  if  the  Birchlegs  come. 


actv]  THE   PRETENDERS  345 

King  Skule. 

And  they  will  desert  us,  so  long  as  homage  has  not 
been  done  to  me  on  the  Saint's  shrine. 

Peter. 

Then  let  the  shrine  be  brought  forth,  and  take  our 
homage  now! 

Paul  Flida. 

[Shaking  his  head.]     How  should  that  be  possible? 

Peter. 

Is  aught  impossible,  where  h  e  is  concerned  ?  Sound 
the  call  for  the  folkmote,  and  bring  forth  the  shrine! 

Several  of  the  Men. 
[Shrinking  back.]     Sacrilege! 

Peter. 

No  sacrilege! — Come,  come!  The  monks  are  well 
disposed  towards  King  Skule;    they  will  agree 

Paul  Flida. 
That  they  will  not;  they  dare  riot,  for  the  Archbishop. 

Peter. 

Arc  you  King's  men,  and  will  not  lend  your  aid  when 
so  great  a  cause  is  at  stake!  Good,  there  are  others  be- 
low of  better  will.  My  father  and  King,  the  monks 
shall    give  way;   I  will  pray,  I  will  beseech;    sound 


346  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  v 

the   summons   for   the   folkmote;    you    shall  bear  your 
kingship  rightfully.  [Rushes  out  to  the  right. 

King  Skule. 

[Beaming  with  joy.]  Saw  you  him!  Saw  you  my 
gallant  son !  How  his  eyes  shone !  Yes,  we  will  all  fight 
and  conquer.     How  strong  are  the  Birchlegs  ? 

Paul  Flida. 

Not  stronger  than  that  we  may  master  them,  if  but 
the  townsfolk  hold  to  us! 

King  Skule. 

They  shall  hold  to  us.  We  must  all  be  at  one  now 
and  put  an  end  to  this  time  of  dread.  See  you  not  that 
'tis  Heaven's  command  that  we  should  end  it  ?  Heaven 
is  wroth  with  all  Norway  for  the  deeds  that  have  so  long 
been  doing.  A  flaming  sword  glows  night  by  night  in 
the  sky;  women  swoon  and  bear  children  in  the  churches; 
a  frenzy  creeps  abroad  among  priests  and  monks,  caus- 
ing them  to  run  through  the  streets  and  proclaim  that 
the  last  day  is  come.  Ay,  by  the  Almighty,  this  shall 
be  ended  at  one  stroke! 

Paul  Flida. 
What  are  your  commands  ? 

King  Skule. 
All  the  bridges  shall  be  broken  down! 

Paul  Flida. 

Go,  and  let  all  the  bridges  be  broken. 

[One  of  the  Men-at-arms  goes  out  to  the  right. 


actv]  THE   PRETENDERS  347 

King  Skule. 

Gather  all  our  men  upon  the  foreshore;  not  one  Birch- 
leg  shall  set  foot  in  Nidaros. 

Paul  Flida. 
Well  spoken,  King. 

King  Skule. 

When  the  shrine  is  borne  forth,  let  the  horn  sound  to 
the  folkmote.  The  host  and  the  townsfolk  shall  be  called 
together. 

Paul  Flida. 

[  To  one  of  the  men.]  Go  forth  and  bid  the  hornblower 
wind  his  horn  in  all  the  streets.  [The  man  goes. 

King  Skule. 

[Addresses  the  people  from  the  window.]  Hold  fast  to 
me,  all  my  sorrowing  people.  There  shall  come  peace 
and  light  over  the  land  once  more,  as  in  Hakon's  first 
glad  days,  when  the  fields  yielded  two  harvests  every 
summer.  Hold  fast  to  me;  believe  in  me  and  trust  to 
me;  'tis  that  I  need  so  unspeakably.  I  will  watch  over 
you  and  fight  for  you;    I  will  bleed  and  die  for  you,  if 

need  be;    but  fail  me  not,  and  doubt  not !     [Loud 

cries,  as  though  of  terror,  are  Jieard  among  tlie  people.] 
What  is  that  ? 

A  Wild  Voice. 
Atone !     Atone ! 

Bard  Bratte. 

[Looks  out.]     'Tis  a  priest  possessed  of  the  devil! 


348  THE  PRETENDERS  [act  v 

Paul  Flida. 

He  is  tearing  his  cowl  to  shreds  and  scourging  himself 
with  a  whip. 

The  Voice. 

Atone,  atone!     The  last  day  is  come. 

Many  Voices. 
Flee,  flee!     Woe  upon  Nidaros!     A  deed  of  sin! 

King  Skule. 
What  has  befallen  ? 

BArd  Bratte. 

All  flee,  all  shrink  away  as  though  a  wild  beast  were 
in  their  midst. 

King  Skule. 

Yes,  all  flee.  [With  a  cry  of  joy.]  Ha!  it  matters 
not.  We  are  saved !  See,  see — King  Olaf 's  shrine  stands 
in  the  middle  of  the  courtyard. 

Paul  Flida. 
King  Olaf's  shrine! 

BArd  Bratte. 
Ay,  by  Heaven — there  it  stands! 

King  Skule. 

The  monks  are  true  to  me;  so  good  a  deed  have  they 
never  done  before! 


actv]  THE  PRETENDERS  349 

Paul  Flida. 
Hark!  the  call  to  the  folkmote! 

King  Skule. 
Now  shall  lawful  homage  be  done  to  me. 

Peter. 

[Enters  from  the  rigid.]  Take  on  you  the  kingly 
mantle;   now  stands  the  shrine  out  yonder. 

King  Skule. 

Then  you  have  saved  the  kingdom  for  me  and  for 
yourself;  and  tenfold  will  we  thank  the  pious  monks 
for  yielding. 

Peter. 

The  monks,  father — you  have  nought  to  thank  them 
for. 

King  Skule. 

'Twas  not  they  that  helped  you  ? 

Peter. 

They  laid  the  ban  of  the  Church  on  whoever  should 
dare  to  touch  the  holy  thing. 

King  Skule. 
The  Archbishop  then!     At  last  he  gives  way. 

Peter 

The  Archbishop  hurled  forth  direr  curses  than  the 
monks. 


350  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  v 

King  Skule. 

Ah,  then  I  see  that  I  still  have  trusty  men.  You  here, 
who  should  have  been  the  first  to  serve  me,  stood  terrified 
and  shrank  back  — but  down  in  the  crowd  have  I  friends 
who  for  my  sake  fear  not  to  take  so  great  a  sin  upon  their 
souls. 

Peter. 

You  have  not  one  trusty  man  who  dared  to  take 
the  sin  upon  him. 

King  Skule. 

Almighty  God!  has  then  a  miracle  come  to  pass? 
Who  bore  out  the  holy  thing  ? 

Peter. 
I,  my  father! 

King  Skule. 
[With  a  shriek.]     You! 

The  Men. 

[Shrink  back  appalled.]     Church-robber! 

[Paul  Flida,  BArd  Bratte,  and  one  or  two  others 
go  out. 

Peter. 

The  deed  had  to  be  done.  No  man's  faith  is  sure  ere 
homage  be  lawfully  done  to  you.  I  begged,  I  besought 
the  monks;  it  availed  not.  Then  I  broke  open  the 
church  door;  none  dared  to  follow  me.  I  sprang  up  to 
the  high  altar,  gripped  the  handle,  and  pressed  hard  with 
my  knees;  'twas  as  though  an  unseen  power  gave  me 
more  than  human  strength.     The  shrine  came  loose,  I 


actv]  THE  PRETENDERS  351 

dragged  it  after  me  down  the  nave,  while  the  ban  moaned 
like  a  storm  high  up  under  the  vaultings.  I  dragged  it 
out  of  the  church;  all  fled  and  shrank  from  me.  When 
I  came  to  the  middle  of  the  courtyard  the  handle  broke; 
here  it  is!  [Holds  it  aloft. 

King  Skule. 

[Quietly,  appalled.]     Church-robber. 

Peter. 

For  your  sake;  for  the  sake  of  your  great  king's- 
thought!  You  will  wipe  out  the  sin;  all  that  is  evil  you 
will  wipe  away.  Light  and  peace  will  follow  you;  a 
glorious  day  will  dawn  over  the  land — what  matter, 
then,  if  there  went  a  storm-night  before  it  ? 

King  Skule. 

There  was  as  'twere  a  halo  round  your  head  when  your 
mother  brought  you  to  me;  now  I  see  in  its  stead  the 
lightnings  of  the  ban. 

Peter. 

Father,  father,  think  not  of  me;  be  not  afraid  for  my 
woe  or  weal.  Is  it  not  your  will  I  have  fulfilled  ? — how 
can  it  be  accounted  to  me  for  a  crime  ? 

King  Skule. 

I  hungered  for  your  faith  in  me,  and  your  faith  has 
turned  to  sin. 

Peter. 

[Wildly.]  For  your  sake,  for  your  sake!  Therefore 
God  dare  not  deny  to  blot  it  out! 


352  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  v 

King  Skule. 

"Pure  and  blameless,"  I  swore  to  Ingeborg — and  he 
scoffs  at  heaven! 

Paul  Flida. 

[Entering.]  All  is  in  uproar!  The  impious  deed  has 
struck  terror  to  your  men;  they  flee  into  the  churches. 

King  Skule. 
They   shall   out;   they  must  out! 

Bard  Bratte. 

[Entering.]  The  townsfolk  have  risen  against  you; 
they  are  slaying  the  Varbselgs  wherever  they  find  them, 
on  the  streets  or  in  the  houses! 

A  Man-at-Arms. 

[Entering.]     The  Birchlegs  are  sailing  up  the  river! 

King  Skule. 

Summon  all  my  men  together!  None  must  fail  me 
here! 

Paul  Flida. 
They  will  not  come;   they  are  benumbed  with  dread. 

King  Skule. 

[Despairingly.]  But  I  cannot  fall  now!  My  son 
must  not  die  with  a  deadly  sin  upon  his  soul! 

Peter. 

Think  not  of  me;  'tis  you  alone  that  are  to  be  thought  of. 
Let  us  make  for  Indherred ;  there  all  men  are  true  to  you ! 


actv]  THE   PRETENDERS  353 

King  Skule. 
Ay,  to  flight!     Follow  me,  whoso  would  save  his  life! 

BArd  Bkatte. 
What  way  ? 

King  Skule. 
Over  the  bridge! 

Paul  Flida. 
All  bridges  are  broken  down,  my  lord. 

King  Skule. 
Broken  down -!     All  the  bridges  broken,  say  you  ? 

Paul  Flida. 

Had  you  broken  them  down  at  Oslo,  you  might  have 
let  them  stand  at  Nidaros. 

King  Skule. 

We  must  over  the  river  none  the  less; — we  have  our 
lives  and  our  souls  to  save!     To  flight!     To  flight! 

[He  and  Peter  rush  out  to  tlie  left. 

BArd  Bratte. 

Ay,  better  so  than  to  fall  at  the  hands  of  the  townfolk 
and  the  Birchlegs. 

Paul  Flida. 

In  God's  name,  then,  to  flight!        [All  follow  Skule. 

The  room  stands  empty  for  a  short  time;  a  distant  and 
confused  noise  is  heard  from  tfie  streets;  then  a  troop 
of  armed  townsmen  rushes  in  by  the  door  on  tlie  right. 


354  THE  PRETENDERS  [act  v 

A  Townsman. 
Here!     He  must  be  here! 

Another. 
Slay  him! 

Many. 

Slay  the  church-robber  too! 

A  Single  One. 
Go  carefully!     They  may  yet  bite! 

The  First  Townsman. 

No  need;    the  Birchlegs  are  already  coming  up  the 
street. 

A  Townsman. 

[Entering.]     Too  late — King  Skule  has  fled! 

Many. 

Whither  ?     Whither  ? 

The  New-comer. 

Into  one  of  the  churches,  methinks ;  they  are  full  of  the 
Varbselgs. 

The  First  Townsman. 

Then  let  us  seek  for  him;    great  thanks  and  reward 
will  King  Hakon  give  to  the  man  who  slays  Skule. 

Another. 
Here  come  the  Birchlegs. 


actv]  THE   PRETENDERS  355 

A  Third. 
King  Hakon  himself! 

Many  of  the  Crowd. 
[Shout.]     Hail  to  King  Hakon  Hakonsson! 

HAkon. 

[Enters from  the  right,  followed  by  Gregorius  Jonsson, 
Dagfinn  the  Peasant,  and  many  others.]  Ay,  now  are 
you  humble,  you  Tronders;  you  have  stood  against  me 
long  enough. 

The  First  Townsman. 

[Kneeling.]  Mercy,  my  lord!  Skule  Bardsson  bore 
so  hardly  on  us! 

Another. 

[Also  kneeling.]  He  compelled  us,  else  had  we  never 
followed  him. 

The  First. 

He  seized  our  goods  and  forced  us  to  fight  for  his 
unrighteous  cause. 

The  Second. 

Alas,  noble  lord,  he  has  been  a  scourge  to  his  friends 
no  Jess  than  to  his  foes. 

Many  Voices. 

Ay,  ay, — Skule  Bardsson  has  been  a  scourge  to  the 
whole  land. 

Dagfinn. 
That,  at  least,  is  true  enough. 


356  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  v 

HAkon. 

Good;  with  you  townsfolk  I  will  speak  later;  'tis  my 
purpose  to  punish  sternly  all  transgressions;  but  first 
there  are  other  things  to  be  thought  of.  Knows  any 
man  where  Skule  Bardsson  is  ? 

Many. 

In  one  of  the  churches,  lord! 

HAkon. 

Know  you  that  for  certain  ? 

The  Townsmen. 
Ay,  there  are  all  the  Varbaelgs. 

HAkon. 

[Softly  to  Dagfinn.]  He  must  be  found;  set  a  watch 
on  all  the  churches  in  the  town. 

Dagfinn. 
And  when  he  is  found,  he  must  straightway  be  slain. 

HAkon. 

[Softly.]  Slain  ?  Dagfinn,  Dagfinn,  how  heavy  a  deed 
it  seems! 

Dagfinn. 

My  lord,  you  swore  it  solemnly  at  Oslo. 

HAkon. 

And  all  men  in  the  land  will  call  for  his  death.  [Turns 
to  Gregorius  Jonsson  and  says,  unheard  by  the  others] 


actv]  THE   PRETENDERS  357 

Go;  you* were  once  his  friend;   seek  him  out  and  prevail 
on  him  to  fly  the  land. 

Gregorius. 
[Joyfully.]     You  will  suffer  it,  my  lord! 

HAkon. 
For  the  sake  of  my  gentle,  well-beloved  wife. 

Gregorius  Jonsson. 
But  if  he  should   not  flee  ?     If  he  will  not  or  cannot  ? 

HAkon. 

Then,  in  Gocl's  name,  I  may  not  spare  him;  then  must 
my  kingly  word  be  fulfilled.     Go! 

Gregorius  Jonsson. 

I  go,  and  shall  do  my  utmost.  Heaven  grant  I  may 
succeed.  [Goes  out  by  tJie  right. 

HAkon. 

You,  Dagfinn,  go  with  trusty  men  down  to  the  King's 
ship;  you  shall  conduct  the  Queen  and  her  child  up  to 
Elgesseter1  convent. 

Dagfinn. 

My  lord,  think  you  she  will  be  safe  there? 

HAkon. 

Nowhere  safer.  The  Varbaelgs  have  shut  themselves 
up  in  the  churches,  and  she  has  besought  to  be  sent 
thither;   her  mother  is  at  Elgesaeter. 

1  Elgesceter=  Elk-ch&let. 


358  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  v 

Dagfinn. 
Ay,  ay,  that  I  know. 

Hakon. 

Greet  the  Queen  most  lovingly  from  me;  and  greet 
Lady  Ragnhild  also.  You  may  tell  them  that  so  soon  as 
the  Varbselgs  shall  have  made  submission  and  been 
taken  to  grace,  all  the  bells  in  Nidaros  shall  be  rung,  for 
a  sign  that  there  has  come  peace  in  the  land  once  more. — 
You  townsfolk  shall  reckon  with  me  to-morrow,  and 
punishment  shall  be  meted  to  each  according  to  his  mis- 
deeds. [Goes  with  his  men. 

The  First  Townsman. 
Woe  upon  us  to-morrow! 

The  Second. 
We  have  a  long  reckoning  to  pay. 

The  First. 

We,  who  have  stood  against  Hakon  so  long— who  bore 
our  part  in  acclaiming  Skule  when  he  took  the  kingly 
title. 

The  Second. 

Who  gave  Skule  both  ships  and  war-tribute— who 
bought  all  the  goods  he  seized  from  Hakon's  thanes. 

The  First. 
Ay,  woe  upon  us  to-morrow! 


actv]  THE   PRETENDERS  359 

A  Townsman. 

[Ruslies  in  from  tlie  left.]     Where  is  Hakon  ?     Where 
is  the  King  ?  v 

The  First. 

What  would  you  with  him? 

The  New-comer. 
Bring  him  great  and  weighty  tidings. 

Many. 

WThat  tidings? 

The  New-comer. 
I  tell  them  to  no  other  than  the  King  himself. 

Many. 
Ay,  tell  us,  tell  us! 

The  New-comer. 
Skule  Bardsson  is  fleeing  up  toward  Elgesseter. 

The  First. 
It  cannot  be!     He  is  in  one  of  the  churches. 

The  New-comer. 
No,  no;  he  and  his  son  crossed  over  the  river  in  a  skiff. 

The  First. 
Ha,  then  we  can  save  us  from  Hakon's  wrath! 

The  Second. 
Ay,  let  us  forthwith  give  him  to  know  where  Skule  is. 


360  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  v 

The  First. 

Nay,  better  than  that;  we  will  say  nought,  but  our- 
selves go  up  to  Elgesseter  and  slay  Skule. 

The  Second. 
Ay,  ay — that  will  we! 

A  Third. 

But  did  not  many  Varbselgs  go  with  him  over  the 
river  ? 

The  New-comer. 
No,  there  were  but  few  men  in  the  boat. 

The  First. 

We  will  arm  us  as  best  we  can.  Oh,  now  are  we  towns- 
folk safe  enough !  Let  no  man  know  what  we  are  about ; 
we  are  enough  for  the  task ! — And  now,  away  to  Elgesseter. 

All. 

[Softly.]     Ay,  away  to  Elgesseter! 

[They  go  out  to  the  left,  rapidly  but  cautiously. 


A  fir-wood  on  tfie  hills  above  Nidaros.  It  is  moonlight, 
but  the  night  is  misty,  so  that  the  background  is  seen 
indistinctly,  and  sometimes  scarcely  at  all.  Tree- 
stumps  and  great  boulders  lie  round  about.  King 
Skule,  Peter,  Paul  Flida,  Bard  Bratte,  and 
other  Varbtelgs  come  through  the  wood  from  the  left. 

Peter. 
Come  hither  and  rest  you,  my  father. 


actv]  THE   PRETENDERS  361 

King  Skule. 
Ay,  let  me  rest,  rest.         [Sinks  down  beside  a  stone. 

Peter. 
How  goes  it  with  you  ? 

King  Skule. 

I  am  hungry!  I  am  sick,  sick!  I  see  dead  men's 
shadows! 

Peter. 
[Springing  up.]     Help  here— bread  for  the  King! 

BArd  Bratte. 

Here  is  every  man  king;  for  life  is  at  stake.  Stand 
up,  Skule  Bardsson,  if  you  be  king'  Lie  not  there  to 
rule  the  land. 

Peter. 
If  you  scoff  at  my  father,  I  will  kill  you. 

BArd  Bratte. 

I  shall  be  killed  whatever  betides;  for  me  King  Hakon 
will  have  no  grace;  for  I  was  his  thane,  and  deserted  him 
for  Skule's  sake.  Think  of  somewhat  that  may  save  us. 
No  deed  so  desperate  but  I  will  risk  it  now. 

A  VArbjelg. 
Could  we  but  get  over  to  the  convent  at  Holm  ? 

Paul  Flida. 
Better  to  Elgesaeter. 


362  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  v 

Bard  Bratte. 

[With  a  sudden  outburst.]     Best  of  all  to  go  down  to 
Hakon's  ship  and  bear  away  the  King-child. 

Paul  Flida. 
Are  you  distraught  ? 

Bard  Bratte. 
No,  no;  'tis  our  one  hope,  and  easy  enough  to  do.  The 
Birchlegs  are  ransacking  every  house,  and  keeping  watch 
on  all  the  churches;  they  think  none  of  us  can  have  taken 
flight,  since  all  the  bridges  are  broken.  There  can  be 
but  few  men  on  board  the  ships;  when  once  we  have  his 
heir  in  our  power,  Hakon  must  grant  us  peace,  else  will  his 
child  die  with  us.    Who  will  go  with  me  to  save  our  lives  ? 

Paul  Flida. 
Not  I,  if  they  are  to  be  saved  in  such  wise. 

Several. 
Not  I!     Not  I! 

Peter. 
Ha,  but  if  it  were  to  save  my  father ! 

Bard  Bratte. 

If  you  will  go  with  me,  come.  First  I  go  down  to 
Hladehammer;  there  lies  the  troop  we  met  at  the  bottom 
of  the  hill;  they  are  the  wildest  daredevils  of  all  the 
Varbselgs;  they  had  swum  the  river,  knowing  that  they 
would  find  no  grace  in  the  churches.  They  are  the  lads  for 
a  raid  on  the  King's  ship !    Which  of  you  will  follow  me  ? 

Some. 
I!     I! 


actv]  THE   PRETENDERS  363 

Peter. 

Mayhap  I  too;  but  first  must  I  see  my  father  into  safe 
shelter. 

BArd  Bratte. 

Ere  daybreak  will  we  make  speed  up  the  river.  Come, 
here  goes  a  short  way  downwards  towards  Hlade. 

[He  and  some  others  go  out  to  the  right. 

Peter. 

[To  Paul  Flida.]  Let  not  my  father  know  aught  of 
this;  he  is  soul-sick  to-night,  we  must  act  for  him. 
There  is  safety  in  Bard  Bratte's  deed;  ere  daybreak  shall 
the  King-child  be  in  our  hands. 

Paul  Flida. 
To  be  slain,  most  like.     See  you  not  that  it  is  a  sin 

Peter. 

Nay,  it  cannot  be  a  sin;  for  my  father  doomed  the  child 
in  Oslo.  Sooner  or  later  it  must  die,  for  it  blocks  my 
father's  path; — my  father  has  a  great  king's-thought  to 
carry  through;  it  matters  not  who  or  how  many  fall  for 
its  sake. 

Paul  Flida. 

Hapless  for  you  was  the  day  you  came  to  know  that 
you  were  King  Skule's  son.  [Listening.]  Hist! — cast 
you  flat  to  the  ground;   there  come  people  this  way. 

[All  throw  themselves  down  behind  stones  and  stumps; 
a  troop  of  people,  some  riding,  some  on  foot,  can  be 
seen  indistinctly  through  tlie  mist  and  between  the 
trees;  they  come  from  tlie  left,  and  pass  on  to  the 
right. 


364  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  v 

Peter. 
'Tis  the  Queen! 

Paul  Flida. 
Ay;   she  js  talking  with  Dagfinn  the  Peasant.     Hush! 

»  Peter. 

They  are  making  for  Elgesseter.     The  King-child  is 
with  them! 

Paul  Flida. 

v     And  the  Queen's  ladies. 

Peter. 

But  only  four  men!     Up,  up,  King  Skule — now  is  your 
kingdom  saved! 

King  Skule. 

My    kingdom?     'Tis    dark,    my    kingdom — like    the 
angel's  that  rose  against  God. 

A  party  of  Monks  comes  from  the  right. 

A  Monk. 

Who  speaks  there  ?     Is  it  King  Skule's  men. 

Paul  Flida. 
King  Skule  himself. 

The  Monk. 

[To  Skule.]     God  be  praised  that  we  met  you,  dear 
lord!     Some  townsmen  gave  us  to  know  that  you  had 


actv]  THE   PRETENDERS  365 

taken  the  upward  path,  and  we  are  no  less  unsafe  than 
you  in  Nidaros. 

Peter. 

You  have  deserved  death,  you  who  denied  to  give 
forth  St.  Olaf's  shrine. 

The  Monk. 

The  Archbishop  forbade  it;  but  none  the  less  we  would 
fain  serve  King  Skule;  we  have  ever  held  to  him.  See, 
we  have  brought  with  us  robes  of  our  Order  for  you  and 
your  men;  put  them  on,  and  then  can  you  easily  make 
your  way  into  one  convent  or  another,  and  can  seek  to 
gain  grace  of  Hakon. 

King  Skule. 

Ay,  let  me  put  on  the  robe;  my  son  and  I  must  stand 
on  consecrated  ground.     I  will  to  Elgesseter. 

Peter. 

[Softly,  to  Paul  Flida.]  See  that  my  father  comes 
safely  thither. 

Paul  Flida. 
Bethink  you  that  there  are  Birchlegs  at  Elgesseter. 

Peter. 

But  four  men;  you  may  easily  deal  with  them,  and  once 
inside  the  convent  walls  they  will  not  dare  to  touch  you. 
I  will  seek  BArd  Bratte. 

Paul  Flida. 
Nay,  do  not  so! 


366  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  v 

Peter. 

Not  on  the  King's  ship,  but  at  Elgesaeter,  must  the  out- 
laws save  the  kingdom  for  my  father. 

[Goes  quickly  out  to  the  right. 

A  VarbjELG. 

[Whispering  to  another.]     Go  you  to  Elgesaeter  with 
Skule  ? 

The  Other. 

Hist;   no;   the  Birchlegs  are  there! 

The  First. 
Neither  will  I  go;    but  say  nought  to  the  rest. 

The  Monk. 

And  now  away,  two  and  two, — one  spearman  and  one 
monk. 

Another  Monk. 

[Sitting  on  a  stump  behind  the  rest.]     I  will  guide  King 
Skule. 

King  Skule. 

Know  you  the  way  ? 

The  Monk. 
The  broad  way. 

The  First  Monk. 

Haste  you;   let  us  take  different  paths,  and  meet  out- 
side the  convent  gate. 

[  They  go  out  among  the  trees,  to  the  right;  the  fog 
lifts  and  the  comet  shows  itself,  red  and  glowing, 
through  the  hazy  air. 


actv]  THE  PRETENDERS  367 

King  Skulk. 

Peter,  my  son !     [Starts  backwards.]     Ha,  there  is 

the  flaming  sword  in  heaven! 

The  Monk. 
[Sittiiig  behind  him  on  the  stump.]     And  here  am  I! 

King  Skule- 
Who  are  you  ? 

The  Monk. 

An  old  acquaintance. 

King  Skule. 
Paler  man  have  I  never  seen. 

The  Monk. 
But  you  know  me  not  ? 

King  Skule. 
'Tis  you  that  are  to  lead  me  to  Elgesseter. 

The  Monk. 
'Tis  I  that  will  lead  you  to  the  throne. 

King  Skule. 
Can  you  do  that? 

The  Monk. 
I  can,  if  you  but  will  it. 

King  Skule. 
And  by  what  means? 


368  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  v 

The  Monk. 

By  the  means  I  have  used  before; — I  will  take  you  up 
into  a  high  mountain  and  show  you  all  the  glory  of  the 
world. 

King  Skule. 

All  the  glory  of  the  world  have  I  seen  ere  now,  in  dreams 
of  temptation. 

The  Monk. 

'Twas  I  that  gave  you  those  dreams. 

King  Skule. 
Who  are  you  ? 

The  Monk. 
An  envoy  from  the  oldest  Pretender  in  the  world. 

King  Skule. 
From  the  oldest  Pretender  in  the  world  ? 

The  Monk. 

From  the  first  Earl,  who  rose  against  the  greatest  king- 
dom, and  himself  founded  a  kingdom  that  shall  endure 
beyond  doomsday. 

King  Skule. 
[Shrieks.]     Bishop  Nicholas! 

The  Monk. 

[Rising.]     Do  you  know  me  now?     We  were  friends  of 

yore, 
And  'tis  you  that  have  brought  me  back; 
Once  the  self-same  galley  our  fortunes  bore, 


actv]  THE   PRETENDERS  369 

And  we  sailed  on  the  self-same  tack. 

At  our  parting  I  quailed,  in  the  gloom  and  the  blast; 

For  a  hawk  in  his  talons  had  gripped  my  soul  fast; 

I  besought  them  to  chant  and  to  ply  the  bell, 

And  I  bought  me  masses  and  prayers  as  well,-^^'  ^ 

They  read  fourteen,  though  I'd  paid  but  for  seven  ;\  £^— - 

Yet  they  brought  me  no  nearer  the  gates  of  heaven.'] 

King  Skule. 
And  you  come  from  down  yonder r 

The  Monk. 

Yes,  from  the  kingdom  down  yonder  I'm  faring; 
The  kingdom  men  always  so  much  miscall. 
I  vow  'tis  in  nowise  so  bad  after  all,  * 

And  the  heat,  to  my  thinking,  is  never  past  bearing. 

King  Skule. 

And  it  seems  you  have  learnt  skald-craft,  old  Bagler- 
chieftain! 

The  Monk. 

Not  only  skald-craft,  but  store  of  Latinity! 
Once  my  Latin  was  not  over  strong,  you  know; 
Now  few  can  beat  it  for  ease  and  flow. 
To  take  any  station  in  yonder  vicinity, 
Ay,  even  to  pass  at  the  gate,  for  credential 
A  knowledge  of  Latin  is  well-nigh  essential. 
You  can't  but  make  progress  with  so  many  able 
And  learned  companions  each  day  at  the  table, — 
Full  fifty  ex-popes  by  my  side  carouse,  and 
Five  hundred  cardinals,  skalds  seven  thousand. 


370  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  v 

King  Skule. 

Greet  your  Master  and  give  him  my  thanks  for  his 
friendship.  Tell  him  he  is  the  only  king  who  sends  help 
to  Skule  the  First  of  Norway. 

The  Monk. 

Hear  now,  King  Skule,  what  brings  me  to  you — 
My  Master's  henchmen  down  there  are  legion, 
And  each  up  here  is  allotted  a  region; 
They  gave  Norway  to  me,  as  the  place  I  best  knew. 
Hakon  Hakonsson  serves  not  my  Master's  will; 
We  hate  him,  for  he  is  our  foeman  still — 
So  he  must  fall,  leaving  you  at  the  helm, 
The  sole  possessor  of  crown  and  realm. 

King  Skule. 

Ay,  give  me  the  crown !  When  once  I  have  that,  I  will 
rule  so  as  to  buy  myself  free  again. 

The  Monk. 
Ay,  that  we  can  always  talk  of  later 


We  must  seize  the  time  if  we'd  win  the  fight. 

King  Hakon's  child  sleeps  at  Elgesaeter; 

Could  you  once  wrap  him  in  the  web  of  night, 

Then  like  storm-swept  motes  will  your  foes  fly  routed, 

Then  your  victory's  sure  and  your  kingship  undoubted! 

King  Skule. 
Think  you  so  surely  that  the  victory  were  mine? 

The  Monk. 

All  men  in  Norway  are  sighing  for  rest; 

The  king  with  an  heir1  is  the  king  they  love  best — 

1  Et  kongs-emne. 


actv]  THE  PRETENDERS  371 

A  son  to  succeed  to  the  throne  without  wrangling; 

For  the  people  are  tired  of  this  hundred-years'  jangling. 

Rouse  you,  King  Skule!  one  great  endeavour! 

The  foe  must  perish  to-night  or  never! 

See,  to  the  northward  how  light  it  has  grown, 

See  how  the  fog  lifts  o'er  fiord  and  o'er  valley — 

There  gather  noiselessly  galley  on  galley — 

Hark!  men  are  marching  with  rumble  and  drone! 

One  word  of  promise,  and  all  is  your  own — 

Hundreds  of  glittering  sails  on  the  water, 

Thousands  of  warriors  hurtling  to  slaughter. 

King  Skule. 
What  word  would  you  have? 

The  Monk. 

For  raising  you  highest,  my  one  condition 
Is  just  that  you  follow  your  heart's  ambition; 
All  Norway  is  yours,  to  the  kingship  I'll  speed  you, 
If  only  you  vow  that  your  son  shall  succeed  you! 

King  Skule. 

[Raising  his  hand  as  if  for  an  oath.]     My  son  shall 

[Stops  suddenly,  and  breaks  forth  in  terror.]  The  church- 
robber!  All  the  might  to  him!  Ha!  now  I  under- 
stand;— you  seek  for  his  soul's  perdition!  Get  thee 
behind  me,  get  thee  behind  me!  [Stretclies  out  his  arms 
to  heaven.]  Oh  have  mercy  on  me,  thou  to  whom  I  now 
call  for  help  in  my  sorest  need! 

[He  falls  prone  to  the  earth. 

The  Monk. 

Accursed!     He's  slipped  through  my  fingers  at  last — 
And  I  thought  of  a  surety  I  held  him  so  fast! 


372  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  v 

But  the  Light,  it  seems,  had  a  trick  in  store 
That  I  knew  not  of — and  the  game  is  o'er. 
Well,  well;   what  matters  a  little  delay? 
Perpetuum  mobile's  well  under  way; 
My  might  is  assured  through  the  years  and  the  ages, 
The  haters  of  light  shall  be  still  in  my  wages; 
In  Norway  my  empire  for  ever  is  founded, 
Though  it  be  to  my  subjects  a  riddle  unsounded. 

[Coming  forward. 
While  to  their  life-work  Norsemen  set  out 
Will-lessly  wavering,  daunted  with  doubt, 
While  hearts  are  shrunken,  minds  helplessly  shivering, 
Weak  as  a  willow-wand  wind-swept  and  quivering, — 
While  about  one  thing  alone  they're  united, 
Namely,  that  greatness  be  stoned  and  despited, — 
When  they  seek  honour  in  fleeing  and  falling 
Under  the  banner  of  baseness  unfurled, — 
Then  Bishop  Nicholas  'tends  to  his  calling, 
The  Bagler-Bishop's  at  work  in  the  world! 

[He  disappears  in  the  fog  among  the  trees. 

King  Skule. 

[After  a  short  pause,  half  rises  and  looks  around.] 
Where  is  he,  my  black  comrade?  [Springs  up.]  My 
guide,  my  guide,  where  are  you?  Gone! — No  matter; 
now  I  myself  know  the  way,  both  to  Elgesseter  and 
beyond.  [Goes  out  to  the  right. 


The  courtyard  of  Elgesater  Convent.  To  the  left  lies  the 
chapel,  with  an  entrance  from  the  courtyard;  the 
windows  are  lighted  up.  Along  the  opposite  side 
of  the  space  stretch  some  lower  buildings;  in  the  back, 
the  convent  wall  with  a  strong  gate,  which  is  locked. 


actv]  THE   PRETENDERS  373 

It  is  a  clear  moonlight  niglit.  Three  Birchleg  Chiefs 
stand  by  the  gate;  Margrete,  Lady  Ragnhild,  and 
Dag finn  the  Peasant  come  out  from  tJte  chapel. 

Lady  Ragnhild. 

[Half  to  herself]  King  Skule  had  to  flee  into  the 
church,  you  say!  He,  he,  a  fugitive!  begging  at  the 
altar  for  peace — begging  for  his  life  mayhap — oh  no, 
no,  that  could  never  be;  but  God  will  punish  you  who 
dared  to  let  it  come  to  this! 

Margrete. 

My  dear,  dear  mother,  curb  yourself;  you  know  not 
what  you  say;   'tis  your  grief  that  speaks. 

Lady  Ragnhild. 

Hear  me,  ye  Birchlegs!  'Tis  Hakon  Hakonsson  that 
should  lie  before  the  altar,  and  beseech  King  Skule  for 
life  and  peace. 

A  Birchleg. 
It  ill  beseems  loyal  men  to  listen  to  such  words. 

Margrete. 
Bow  your  heads  before  a  wife's  sorrow! 

Lady  Ragnhild. 

King  Skule  doomed!  Look  to  yourselves,  look  to 
yourselves  all  of  you,  when  he  regains  his  power. 

Dagfinn. 

That  will  never  be,  Lady  Ragnhild. 


374  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  v 

Margrete. 
Hush,  hush! 

Lady  Ragnhild. 

Think  you  Hakon  Hakonsson  dare  let  his  doom  be 
fulfilled  if  the  King  should  fall  into  his  hands? 

Dagfinn. 

King  Hakon  himself  best  knows  whether  a  king's  oath 
can  be  broken. 

Lady  Ragnhild. 

[To  Margrete.]  And  this  man  of  blood  have  you 
followed    in    faith    and   love!     Are    you    your  father's 

child  ?     May  the  wrath  of  heaven !     Go  from  me, 

go  from  me! 

Margrete. 
Blessed  be  your  lips,  although  now  they  curse  me. 

Lady  Ragnhild. 

I  must  down  to  Nidaros  and  into  the  church  to  find 
King  Skule.  He  sent  me  from  him  when  he  sat  victori- 
ous on  the  throne;  then,  truly,  he  had  no  need  of  me — 
now  will  he  not  be  wroth  if  I  come  to  him.  Open  the 
gate  for  me;    let  me  go  to  Nidaros! 

Margrete. 

My  mother,  for  God's  pity's  sake ! 

[A  loud  knocking  at  the  convent  gate. 

Dagfinn. 
Who  knocks? 


actv]  THE   PRETENDERS  375 

King  Skule. 
[Without.]     A  king. 

Dagfinn. 
Skule  Bardsson. 

Lady  Ragnhild. 
King  Skule. 

Margrete. 
My  father! 

King  Skule. 
Open,  open! 

Dagfinn. 

We  open  not  here  to  outlaws. 

King  Skule. 

'Tis  a  king  who  knocks,  I  tell  you;   a  king  who  has  no     , 
roof  over  his  head;  a  king  whose  life  is  forfeit  if  he  reach 
not  consecrated  ground. 

Margrete. 
Dagfinn,  Dagfinn,  'tis  my  father. 

Dagfinn. 

[Goes  to  the  gale  and  opens  a  small  shutter.]     Come 
you  with  many  men  to  the  convent  ? 

King  Skule. 
With  all  the  men  that  were  true  to  me  in  my  need 

Dagfinn. 
And  how  many  be  they  ? 


370  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  v 

King  Skule. 
^     Fewer  than  one. 

Margrete. 

He  is  alone,  Dagfinn. 

Lady  Ragnhild. 

Heaven's  wrath  fall  upon  you  if  you  deny  him  sanc- 
tuary ! 

Dagfinn. 

In  God's  name,  then! 

[He  opens  the  gate;  the  Birchlegs  respectfully  un- 
cover their  heads.  King  Skule  enters  the  court- 
yard. 

Margrete. 

[Throwing  herself  on  his  neck.]  My  father!  My  dear, 
unhappy  father! 

Lady  Ragnhild. 

[Interposing  wildly  between  him  and  the  Birchlegs.] 
Ye  who  feign  reverence  for  him,  ye  will  betray  him,  like 
Judas.  Dare  not  to  come  near  him!  Ye  shall  not  lay 
a  finger  on  him  while  I  live! 

Dagfinn. 
Here  he  is  safe,  for  he  is  on  holy  ground. 

Margrete. 

And  not  one  of  all  your  men  had  the  heart  to 
follow  you  this  night! 


actvI  THE   PRETENDERS  377 

King  Skule. 

Both  monks  and  spearmen  brought  me  on  the  way; 
but  they  slipped  from  me  one  by  one,  for  they  knew  there 
were  Birchlegs  at  Elgesaeter.  Paul  Flida  was  the  last  to 
leave  me;  he  eame  with  me  to  the  eonvent  gate;  there  he 
gave  me  his  last  hand-grip,  in  memory  of  the  time  when 
there  were  Varbselgs  in  Norway. 

Dagfinn. 

[To  the  Birchlegs.]  Get  you  in,  chieftains,  and  set 
you  as  guards  about  the  King-child;  I  must  to  Nidaros 
to  acquaint  the  King  that  Skule  Bardsson  is  at  Elgesaeter; 
in  so  weighty  a  matter  'tis  for  him  to  act. 

Margrete. 
Oh,  Dagfinn,  Dagfinn,  have  you  the  heart  for  that? 

Dagfinn. 

Else  should  I  ill  serve  King  and  land.  [To  tJie  men.] 
Lock  the  gates  after  me,  watch  over  the  child,  and  open 
to  none  until  the  King  be  come.  [Softly  to  Skule.] 
Farewell,  Skule  Bardsson — and  God  grant  you  a  blessed 
end. 

[Goes  out  by  the  gate;  the  Birchlegs  close  it  after  him, 
and  go  into  tlie  chapel. 

Lady  Ragnhild. 

Ay,  let  Hakon  come;  I  will  not  loose  you;  I  will  hold 
you  strai.tly  and  tenderly  in  my  arms,  as  I  never  held  you 
before. 

Margrete. 

Oh,  how  pale  you  are — and  aged;   you  are  cold. 


378  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  v 

King  Skule. 
I  am  not  cold — but  I  am  weary,  weary. 

Margrete. 
Come  in  then,  and  rest  you 

King  Skule. 
Yes,  yes;    'twill  soon  be  time  to  rest. 

Sigrid. 
[From  the  chapel.]     You  come  at  last,  my  brother! 

King  Skule. 
Sigrid !  you  here  ? 

Sigrid. 

I  promised  that  we  should  meet  when  you  were  fain  of 
me  in  your  sorest  need. 

King  Skule. 
Where  is  your  child,  Margrete? 

Margrete. 
He  sleeps,  in  the  sacristy. 

King  Skule. 
Then  is  our  whole  house  gathered  at  Elgesaeter  to-night 

Sigrid. 
Ay,  gathered  after  straying  long  and  far. 


act  v]  THE   PRETENDERS  379 

King  Skule. 
Hakon  Hakonsson  alone  is  wanting. 

Margrete  and  Lady  Ragnhild. 

[Cling  about  him,  in  an  outburst  of  sorrow.]  My 
father! — My  husband! 

King  Skule. 

[Looking  at  them,  much  moved.]  Have  you  loved  me 
so  deeply,  you  two?  I  sought  after  happiness  abroad, 
and  heeded  not  the  home  wherein  I  might  have  found  it. 
I  pursued  after  love  through  sin  and  guilt,  little  dreaming 
that  'twas  mine  already,  in  right  of  God's  law  and  man's. 
.  — And  you,  Ragnhild,  my  wife,  you,  against  whom  I  have 
sinned  so  deeply,  you  take  me  to  your  warm,  soft  heart 
in  the  hour  of  my  sorest  need;  you  can  tremble  and  be 
afraid  for  the  life  of  the  man  who  has  never  cast  a  ray  of 
sunshine  upon  your  path. 

Lady  Ragnhild. 

Have  you  sinned?  Oh,  Skule,  speak  not  so;  think 
you  I  should  ever  dare  accuse  you!  From  the  first  I 
was  too  mean  a  mate  for  you,  my  noble  husband;  there 
can  rest  no  guilt  on  any  deed  of  yours. 

King  Skule. 
Have  you  believed  in  me  so  surely,  Ragnhild  ? 

Lady  Ragnhild. 
From  the  first  day  I  saw  you. 


380  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  v 

King  Skule. 

[With  animation.]  When  Hfikon  comes,  I  will  beg 
grace  of  him!  You  gentle,  loving  women, — oh,  but  it  is 
fair  to  live! 

Sigrid. 

[With  an  expression  of  terror.]  Skule,  my  brother! 
Woe  to  you  if  you  stray  from  the  path  this  night. 

[A   loud  noise  without;    immediately  afterwards,  a 
knocking  at  the  gate. 

Margrete. 
Hark,  hark!     Who  comes  in  such  haste? 

Lady  Ragnhild 
Who  knocks  at  the  gate  ? 

Voices. 

[Without.]  Townsfolk  from  Nidaros!  Open!  We 
know  that  Skule  Bardsson  is  within! 

King  Skule. 
Ay,  he  is  within ;   what  would  ye  with  him  ? 

Noisy  Voices. 

[Without.]  Come  out,  come  out!  Death  to  the  evil 
man! 

Margrete. 

You  townsfolk  dare  to  threaten  that? 

A  Single  Voice. 
King  Hakon  doomed  him  at  Oslo. 


actv]  THE   PRETENDERS  381 

Another. 
'Tis  every  man's  duty  to  slay  him! 

Margrete. 
I  am  the  Queen;   I  command  you  to  depart! 

A  Voice. 

'Tis  Skule  Bardsson's  daughter,  and  not  the  Queen, 
that  speaks  thus. 

Another. 

You  have  no  power  over  life  and  death;  the  King  has 
doomed  him! 

Lady  Ragnhild. 

Into  the  church,  Skule!  For  God's  mercy's  sake,  let 
not  the  bloodthirsty  caitiffs  approach  you! 

King  Skule. 

Ay,  into  the  church;  I  would  not  fall  at  the  hands  of 
such  as  these.  My  wife,  my  daughter;  meseems  I  have 
found  peace  and  light;  oh,  I  cannot  lose  them  again  so 
soon!  [Moves  towards  the  chapel. 

Peter. 

[Without,  on  the  right.]  My  father,  my  king!  Now 
will  you  soon  have  the  victory! 

King  Skule. 

[With  a  shriek.]     He!     He! 

[Sinks  down  upon  the  church  steps. 


382  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  v 

Lady  Ragnhild. 
Who  is  it  ? 

A  Townsman. 

[Without.]  See,  see!  the  church-robber  climbs  over 
the  convent  roof! 

Others. 

Stone  him!     Stone  him! 

Peter. 

[Appears  on  a  roof  to  the  right,  and  jumps  down  into 
the  yard.]     Well  met  again,  my  father! 

King  Skule. 

[Looks  at  him  aghast.]     You — I  had  forgotten  you ! 

Whence  come  you  ? 

Peter. 

[Wildly.]     Where  is  the  King-child  ? 

Margrete. 
The  King-child! 

King  Skule. 

[Starts  up.]     Whence  come  you,  I  ask  ? 

Peter. 

From  Hladehammer;  I  have  given  Bard  Bratte  and 
the  Varbselgs  to  know  that  the  King-child  lies  at  Elge- 
saeter  to-night. 

Margrete. 
O  God! 


actv]                 THE   PRETENDERS  383 

King  Skule* 
You  have  done  that!     And  now ? 

Peter. 

He  is  gathering  together  his  men,  and  they  are  hasting 
up  to  the  convent. — Where  is  the  King-child,  woman  ? 

Margrete. 

[Who  has  placed  herself  before  the  church  door.]  He 
sleeps  in  the  sacristy! 

Peter. 

'Twere  the  same  if  he  slept  on  the  altar!  I  have 
dragged  out  St.  Olaf  s  shrine — I  fear  not  to  drag  out  the 
King-child  as  well. 

Lady  Ragnhild. 
[Calls  to  Skule.]     And  he  it  is  you  have  loved  so  deeply ! 

Margrete. 

Father,  father!  How  could  you  forget  us  all  for  his 
sake  ? 

King  Skule. 

He  was  pure  as  a  lamb  of  God  when  the  penitent 
woman  gave  him  to  me; — 'tis  his  faith  in  me  has  made 
him  what  he  now  is. 

Peter. 

[Without  heeding  him.]  The  child  must  out!  Slay 
it,  slay  it  in  the  Queen's  arms, — that  was  King  Skule's 
word  in  Oslo! 


1/ 


384  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  v 

Maegrete. 
Oh  shame,  oh  shame! 

Peter. 

A  saint  might  do  it  unsinning,  at  my  father's  command! 
My  father  is  King;  for  the  great  king's-thought  is  his' 

Townsmen. 

[Knocking  at  the  gate.]  Open!  Come  out,  you  and 
the  church-robber,  else  will  we  burn  the  convent  down 

King  Skule. 

[As  if  seized  by  a  strong  resolution.]  The  great  king's- 
thought  !  'Tis  that  has  poisoned  your  young  loving 
soul!  Pure  and  blameless  I  was  to  give  you  back;  'tis 
faith  in  me  that  drives  you  thus  wildly  from  crime  to 
crime,  from  deadly  sin  to  deadly  sin!  Oh,  but  I  can 
save  you  yet:  I  can  save  us  all!  [Calls  toward  the  back- 
ground.] Wait,  wait,  ye  townsmen  without  there:  I 
come! 

Margrete. 

[Seizing  his  hand  in  terror.]  My  father!  what  would 
you  do  ? 

Lady  Ragnhild. 

[Clinging  to  him  with  a  shriek.]     Skule! 

Sigrid. 

[Tears  tliem  away  from  him,  and  calls  with  wild, 
radiant  joy.]  Loose  him,  loose  him,  women; — now  his 
thought  puts  forth  wings! 


actv]  THE   PRETENDERS  385 

King  Skule. 

[Firmly  and  forcibly,  to  Peter.]  You  saw  in  me  the 
heaven-chosen  one, — him  who  should  do  the  great  king's- 
work  in  the  land.  Look  at  me  better,  misguided  boy! 
The  rags  of  kingship  I  have  decked  myself  withal,  they 
were  borrowed  and  stolen — now  I  put  them  off  me,  one 
by  one. 

Peter. 

[In  dread.]    My  great,  my  noble  father,  speak  not  thus ! 

King  Skule. 

The  king's-thought  is  Hakon's,  not  mine;  to  him  alone 
has  the  Lord  granted  the  power  that  can  act  it  out. 
You  have  believed  in  a  lie;  turn  from  me,  and  save  your 
»oul. 

Peter. 

[In  a  broken  voice.]    The  king's-thought  is  Hakon's! 

King  Skule. 

I  yearned  to  be  the  greatest  in  the  land.  My  God !  my 
God!  behold,  I  abase  myself  before  thee,  and  stand  as 
the  least  of  all  men. 

Peter. 

Take  me  from  the  earth,  O  Lord !  Punish  me  for  all 
my  sin;  but  take  me  from  the  earth;  for  here  am  I 
homeless  now!  [Sinks  down  upon  the  church  steps. 

King  Skule. 

I  had  a  friend  who  bled  for  me  at  Oslo.  He  said: 
A  man  can  die  for  another's  life-work;  but  if  he  is  to  go 


j 


386  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  v 

on  living,  he  must  live  for  his  own. — I  have  no  life-work 
to  live  for,  neither  can  I  live  for  Hakon's, — but  I  can  die 
for  it. 

Margrete. 

Nay,  nay,  that  shall  you  never  do! 

King  Skule. 

[Takes  her  hand,  and  looks  at  her  tenderly.]  Do  you 
love  your  husband,  Margrete  ? 

Margrete. 
Better  than  the  whole  world. 

King  Skule. 

You  could  endure  that  he  should  doom  me;  but 
cculd  you  also  endure  that  he  should  let  the  doom  be 
fulfilled  ? 

Margrete. 

Lord  of  heaven,  give  me  strength! 

King  Skule. 
Could  you,  Margrete? 

Margrete. 

[Softly  and  shuddering.]  No,  no — we  should  have  to 
part, — I  could  never  see  him  more! 

King  Skule. 

You  would  darken  the  fairest  light  of  his  life  and  of 
yours; — be  at  peace,  Margrete, — it  shall  not  be  needful. 


actv]  THE   PRETENDERS  387 

Lady  Ragnhild. 

Flee  from  the  land,  Skulc;  I  will  follow  you  whither- 
soever you  will. 

King  Skule. 

[Shaking  his  head.]  With  a  mocking  shade  between 
us? — To-night  have  I  found  you  for  the  first  time;  there 
must  fall  no  shade  between  me  and  you,  my  silent,  faith- 
ful wife; — therefore  must  we  not  seek  to  unite  our  lives 
on  this  earth. 

Sigrid. 

My  kingly  brother!  I  see  you  need  me  not; — I  see 
you  know  what  path  to  take. 

King  Skule. 

There  are  men  born  to  live,  and  men  born  to  die. 
My  desire  was  ever  thitherward  where  God's  finger 
pointed  not  the  way  for  me;  therefore  I  never  saw  my 
path  clear,  till  now.  My  peaceful  home-life  have  I 
wrecked;  I  can  never  win  it  back  again.  My  sins 
against  Hakon  I  can  atone  by  freeing  him  from  a  kingly 
duty  which  must  have  parted  him  from  his  dearest  treas- 
ure. The  townsfolk  stand  without;  I  will  not  wait  for 
King  Hakon!  The  Varbaelgs  are  near;  so  long  as  I 
live  they  will  not  swerve  from  their  purpose;  if  they  find 
me  here,  I  cannot  save  your  child,  Margrete. — See,  look 
upwards!  See  how  it  wanes  and  pales,  the  flaming 
sword  that  has  hung  over  my  head!  Yes,  yes, — God 
has  spoken  and  I  have  understood  him,  and  his  wrath 
is  appeased.  Not  in  the  sanctuary  of  Elgesaeter  will  I 
cast  me  down  and  beg  for  grace  of  an  earthly  king; — I 
must  into  the  mighty  church  roofed  with  the  vault  of 


388  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  v 

stars  and  'tis  the  King  of  Kings  I  must  implore  for  grace 
and  mercy  over  all  my  life-work. 

Sigrid. 

Withstand  him  not!  Withstand  not  the  call  of  God! 
The  day  dawns;  it  dawns  in  Norway  and  it  dawns  in 
his  restless  soul!  Have  not  we  trembling  women  cow- 
ered long  enough  in  our  secret  rooms,  terror-stricken 
and  hidden  in  the  darkest  corners,  listening  to  all  the 
horror  that  was  doing  without,  listening  to  the  bloody 
pageant  that  stalked  over  the  land  from  end  to  end! 
Have  we  not  lain  pale  and  stone-like  in  the  churches,  not 
daring  to  look  forth,  even  as  Christ's  disciples  lay  in 
Jerusalem  on  the  Great  Good  Friday  when  the  Lord 
was  led  by  to  Golgotha!  Use  thy  wings,  and  woe  to 
them  who  would  bind  thee  now! 

Lady  Ragnhild. 

Fare  forth  in  peace,  my  husband;  fare  thither  where 
no  mocking  shade  shall  stand  between  us,  when  we  meet. 

[Hastens  into  tlie  chapel. 

Margrete. 

My  father,  farewell,  farewell, — a  thousand  times 
farewell!  [Follows  Lady  Ragnhild. 

Sigrid. 

[Opens  the  church  door  and  calls  in.]  To  your  knees, 
all  ye  women!  Assemble  yourselves  in  prayer;  send  up 
a  message  in  song  to  the  Lord,  and  tell  him  that  now 
Skule  Bardsson  comes  penitent  home  from  his  rebellious 
race  on  earth. 


actv]  THE   PRETENDERS  389 

King  Skulk. 

Sigrid,  my  faithful  sister,  greet  King  Hakon  from  me; 
tell  him  that  even  in  my  last  hour  I  know  not  whether 
he  be  king-born;    but  this  I  know  of  a  surety:   he  it  is     , 
whom  God  has  chosen. 

Sigrid. 
I  will  bear  him  your  greeting. 

King  Skule. 

And  yet  another  greeting  must  you  bear.  There 
dwells  a  penitent  woman  in  the  north,  in  Halogaland; 
tell  her  that  her  son  has  gone  before;  he  went  with  me 
when  there  was  great  danger  for  his  soul. 

Sigrid. 
That  will  I. 

King  Skule. 

Tell  her,  it  was  not  with  the  heart  he  sinned;  pure  and   . 
blameless  shall  she  surely  meet  him  again. 

Sigrid. 

That  will  I.  [Points  towards  the  background.]  Hark! 
they  are  breaking  the  lock! 

0 

King  Skule. 

[Points  towards  the  chapel.]  Hark!  they  are  singing 
loud  to  God  of  salvation  and  peace' 

Sigrid. 
Hark  again!     All  the  bells  in  Nidaros  are  ringing ! 


390  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  v 

King  Skule. 

[Smiles  mournfully.]  They  are  ringing  a  king  to  his 
grave. 

Sigrid. 

Nay,  nay,  they  ring  for  your  true  crowning!     Farewell, 

my  brother,  let  the  purple  robe  of  blood  flow  wide  over 

your  shoulders;    under  it  may  all  sin  be  hidden.     Go 

forth,  go  into  the  great  church  and  take  the  crown  of  life. 

[Hastens  into  the  chapel.     Chanting  and  bell-ringing 

continue  during  what  follows. 

Voices. 

[Outside  the  gate.]  The  lock  has  burst!  Force  us 
not  to  break  the  peace  of  the  church! 

King  Skule. 
I  come. 

The  Townsmen. 
And  the  church-robber  must  come  too' 

King  Skule. 

Ay,  the  church-robber  shall  come  too.  [Goes  over  to 
Peter.]     My  son,  are  you  ready  ? 

Peter. 
Ay,  father,  I  am  ready. 

King  Skule. 

[Looks  upwards.]  O  God,  I  am  a  poor  man,  I  have 
but  my  life  to  give;  but  take  that,  and  keep  watch  over 
Hakon's  great  king's-thought. — See  now,  give  me  your 
hand. 


actv]  THE   PRETENDERS  391 

Peter. 
Here  is  my  hand,  father. 

King  Skule. 
And  fear  not  for  that  which  is  now  to  come. 

Peter. 
Nay,  father,  I  fear  not,  when  I  go  with  you. 

King  Skule. 

A  safer  way  have  we  two  never  trodden  together. 
[He  opens  the  gate;  the  Townsmen  stand  without  with 
upraised  weapons.]  Here  arc  we;  we  come  of  our  own 
free  will; — but  strike  him  not  in  the  face. 

[They  pass  out,  hand  in  hand;   the  gate  glides  to. 

A  VOK'K. 

Aim  not,  spare  not; — strike  them  where  ye  can. 

King  Skule's  Voice. 

'Tis  base  to  deal  thus  with  chieftains. 

[A  short  noise  of  weapons;  then  a  heavy  fall  is  lieard; 
all  is  still  for  a  moment. 

A  Voice. 
They  are  dead,  both  of  them! 

[Tlie  King's  Jiorn  sounds 

Another  Voice. 
There  comes  King  Hakon  with  all  his  guard! 


392  THE   PRETENDERS  [act  v 

The  Crowd. 

Hail  Hakon  Hakonsson;  now  have  you  no  longer  any 
foemen. 

Gregorius  Jonsson. 

[Stops  a  little  before  the  corpses.]  So  I  have  come  too 
late!  [Enters  the  convent  yard. 

Dagfinn. 

It  had  been  ill  for  Norway  had  you  come  sooner. 
[Calls  out.]     In  here,  King  Hakon! 

Hakon. 

[Stopping.]     The  body  lies  in  my  way! 

Dagfinn. 

If  Hakon  Hakonsson  would  go  forward,  he  must  pass 
over  Skule  Bardsson's  body! 

Hakon. 
In  God's  name  then! 

[Steps  over  the  corpse  and  comes  in. 

Dagfinn. 

At  last  you  can  set  about  your  king's-work  with  free 
hands.  In  there  are  those  you  love;  in  Nidaros  they  are 
ringing  in  peace  in  the  land ;  and  yonder  he  lies  who  was 
your  direst  foe. 

HAkon. 

All  men  misjudged  him,  reading  not  his  secret. 


actvJ  THE   PRETENDERS  393 

4 

Dagfinn.  *0 ' 

His  secret  ? 

HAkon. 

[Seizes  him  by  the  arm,  and  says  softly.]     Skule  Bards- 
son  was  God's  step-child  on  earth;   that  was  the  secret. 
[The  song  of  the  women  is  heard  more  loudly  from 
the  chapel;  all  tfie  bells  are  still  ringing  in  Nidaros. 


THE  END. 


